


The Curious Case of Rosalyn Grey

by Dr_Mini_Me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confused John, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Irene was always a little not straight, Moriarty Being an Asshole, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft's Meddling, Possessive Sherlock, Some Humor, but also much different, going AU before the reichenbach fall, he doesnt know what to do with her but poke, kinda irene incarnate, lez be honest, minor Irene Adler/Original Female Character, sherlocks going to get strangely human by the end of it, shes thinks hes a game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Mini_Me/pseuds/Dr_Mini_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"You've never seen Annie?" "What is Annie?" He mimicked. "Oh my goodness. You poor thing, you've not had a childhood have you?" I leaned up and hugged his chest while petting his head. He was frozen, maybe slightly uncomfortable I couldn't tell from his body. He seemed to be caught between relaxing and freezing up by the way his shoulders would droop then tense.' (Sherlock/OC OFC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Rose POV** _

"Rosalyn, sweetheart. We talked about this, you're to bring me my lunch, everyday at the hospital. Remember?" This is what my lovely little husband told me over the phone at 11 in the morning, monday. Of course he wanted his bloody lunch served to him. Might as well put it on a fucking silver platter along with my bloody dignity. I began getting up and picking clothes out that were accurate for the occasion of 'serving' him lunch.

"Right away dear, however could I have forgotten." I grounded out sarcastically.

Yep, that high pitched noise in the background is my dignity and pride slowly dying. Eventually he got off the phone and I set to making his lunch, packing it and riding the tubes until I got to his bloody hospital. That was when I realized I forgot to ask the little shit for directions. _Where in the hospital did he work again? Might as well work from down to up I suppose._ I waved to Evie, the nurse on duty, and she smiled back at me before turning back around to help out a lost patient. I trotted down the stairs, bouncing a little as I went, I came to a hall way and decided left was the best bet, because I was left handed, left has never let me down before. Why would it now? I knocked and heard a "Enter!" in a low baritone voice. I shivered, _'ooooh sexy.'_

I strode into the middle of the room and looked around for the voice. It eventually processed that I was infact in the morgue, which kinda grossed me out but it was nothing like it was in biology 101. I can never look at a organ the same way again.

"Its about time, Molly I've been waiting for hours for the sample results." Ah ha! There was some guy crouched over a microscope, no white coat. Interesting. He obviously didn't offically work here so why was he here? I pursed my lips and waited for him to realize I was infact not this 'Molly'. I cleared my throat and eventually he gazed up looking mildly annoyed. The first thing I noticed was his green eyes and pale skin, they suited each other beautifully. _William's lunch can wait a few minutes._

Gorgeous eyes glared looking me up and down, then said "You're not Molly," with slight contempt. That pissed me off, there goes the nice adjectives for his arse. I had a knack for picking up on the emotions people thought were hidden in them.

"Well spotted. I can tell we have a real genius on the floor here." I replied smirking, he raised a eyebrow as he came around from his little desk and walked closer to me. I could see his eyes flickering all over, from the phone and paper bag of food in my hand to my feet then up to my head and face. I was being scanned for details.

"You're mid-twenties, freshly married. Unhappily so. However he is rich, perhaps a bit influential gauging by that ring, so you can't really just leave him just like that. You've been to some form biological course or degree seeing as you've not retched yet. Judging by that outfit and and bag you've come to bring him lunch, not really happy about it of course and are goofing off to spite him in someway with a paper bag. You come from money, obviously he could have had better. You certainly hold a level of resentment for him." It was like a computer spitting out little facts and details in a list. At my lack of immediate response he seemed to have grown impatient and irate,

"Well? Am I right?"

"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. You'll never get a answer out of _me_." I said in a light singsongy voice as I pranced around him to his desk, enjoying this game with him. I glanced over at him waiting for him to follow, but he just stood there arms crossed looking rather flustered and incredibly annoyed. I was actually quite impressed and figured he pulled it all out of just my appearance but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"So what are you looking at over here Mr...?" I trailed off waiting for him to fill in the blanks for me,

"Sherlock Holmes, and you are?" He came over slowly, each step had meaning and purpose in them. He was still trying to figure me out.

"Rosalyn Grey, call me Rosie." I said flashing him a toothy grin and put down my bag and phone on the desk next to the microscope.

"So what are you looking at Mr. Holmes?" I wrapped my arms behind me as I peering over to look inside the scope.

"That Miss Gray, is copper sulfate in its most organic form. I'm measuring its rate of reaction to decaying human flesh." The words were crisp and clear, each letter pronounced and accounted for as they came closer to stand next to me. This was something he was comfortable with.

"Well thats just all daises and rainbows, eh? About how long as Fred been dead then?" I stood up quickly after that realizing the smell was infact the stench of rotting human flesh, my accent irish accent slipped through as I asked. I looked towards him and was met with a tight black button up over a chest, so I shifted my view upwards towards his actual face which, at my total height of 163 cms, was actually quite hard to do. He appeared to be a whooping 183 cm's tall, bloody hell what did they feed this guy as a kid?

"The body has been decaying approximately 2 weeks, and they fed me very nutritious foods when I was a child. I assume they gave you a diet of bread and water given your height disability." He continued on, looking for a reaction.

"Said that out loud did I?" I narrowed my eyes in thought. _Guess whose not getting a reaction today? You are._

"In fact you did, Miss Grey. Pity...I had thought you would have been smarter. Most are so don't feel too bad about it. " He stepped closer trying to shift me out of the way from the microscope and slide, I wasn't having any of that so I stayed put. Rude bastard.

"Was that out loud too? And call me Rosie!" I appeared shocked and confused, making him sigh with some exasperation.

"Yes it was. Do try to keep up with that tiny little brain of yours now. I need to continue my work if you would so please move. Miss. Grey." I didn't miss the way he emphasized the formality, the little pisser. Two can play at that game.

"Alright alright Shirley, keep your curls together. Can't move too fast with this tiny little brain of mine, now. " I said in a sugary sweet voice, paired with a bright smile. I took a step back and appraised the way Sherlock was now struck in-between confusion and annoyance.

"Shirley? Are you deaf? I said I was Sher _lock_." He said confusedly looking down at me.

"You've never seen _Annie_?"

"What is _Annie_?" He mimicked.

"Oh my goodness. You poor thing, you've not had a childhood have you?" I leaned up and hugged his chest while petting his head. He was frozen, maybe slightly uncomfortable I couldn't tell from his body. He seemed to be caught between relaxing and freezing up by the way his shoulders would droop then tense.

"Sherlock I couldn't find the-...Oh, whose this?" The doors opened behind us and I turned my head to look at a shorter blonde and tanned man come through. He had tension in his shoulders and a line going down his brow signaling stress with his hair nearly gone in what seemed to an army cut. His voice was friendly and comfortable until he realized I was standing there.

"Rosalyn Grey. Its a pleasure to meet his friend." I greeted, letting go of Sherlock and skipping over to greet the man. He had a limp as he struggled over towards me with a hand extended for me to shake, no tan below the wrists. He was most definitely army with a handshake like that.

"John Watson. Same to you, Miss Grey." He greeted with a small smile, his eyes were curious as they jumped from my browns to Sherlock's again. I supposed Sherlock wasn't touched much.

"I uh, I was wondering how you knew Sherlock or that I was friends with him? I mean the man obviously doesn't have many. Much less women." John finished awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh he was quite stressed, sounded like he thought he knew every one in Sherlock's life to find out I existed.

"Oh! I've just the man, wandered in here but before I answer the other I must ask, where did you serve?" I tilted my head as the curiousity got to me. I wanted to know things and hated when they seemed hidden to me.

"Oh bloody hell, its another one. I came from Afghanistan." He shook his head and put his hands over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Shes nothing like me, John. Shes entirely ordinary, any idiot could see you've served." Sherlock spoke up from his area for once as he pronounced the idiot with a hiss. I looked back to see him pouting demurely as he leaned over his microscope.

"Oh, thats rude." I giggled in response, completely unoffended by his statement.

"But really, how did you meet him?" John motioned back to Sherlock who was still pouting.

"I really did just wander in here. I figured you were acquaintances because you knew his name then friends when you looked confused that you didn't know who I was." I smiled warmly as I folded my hands and sat down.

"So a complete stranger wanders in and hugs you and you're fine? I thought you didn't do relationships." John asked incredulously as he looked back to Sherlock who shrugged.

"Shes married." We chorused in some amount of unison excluding the different pronouns.

"Bloody creepy." John stared at us for all of second, looking entirely off put by this situation.

"Is he always like this?" I sighed and swiveled back around to face Sherlock. He nodded, going back to his microscope. Right at this moment my phone began ringing. His eyes snapped towards the phone then back at me for a reaction. I just shrugged and leaned over to answer it.

"Where are you?" Its William. Lovely. And right as I was having fun with Shirley, damn. He sounds pissed too.

"Um, I think I'm at Morgue gauging by the bodies, why are you asking William?" I leaned on the desk, scratching at a mark on the table. _How strange, everything in here pretty spotless._

"Where is my lunch then?" _Oh my god the bloody spot wont come offf._

"Rosalyn!" I scratched hard at the mark, willing it to disappear.

"Huh?" I shifted my focus from the spot to the actual conversation, then to the clock. It had just struck 12 with a loud TOCK. _Hey what do ya know its lunch time already. I swore I came in here for something_.

"My lunch Rosalyn. Mid-day meal. Remember?" _Oh shit._ His lunch I glanced down at the bag. _Crap I came in here to give him lunch_.

"Rightt. Sorry love, coming right now. Where are you by the way?" I said in a rush as I grabbed the bag and my stuff off of the desk, I could feel eyes on me as I rushed.

"I'm on the second floor, break room. Be snappy about it alright?"

"Will do." I hung up at that point and remembered in my rush that I didn't actually know where the break room was, I glanced back at Sherlock who had the looks of going back to his microscope but was obviously listening to me on the phone by the way his head was ever so slightly tilted.

"Say Shirley, do you know where the break room is? On the second floor?" I turned back around to him holding the paper bag in my hands.

"I might." He stood back up looking at me, smug, a single eyebrow raised in a delicate fashion. I could hear John scoff with disbelief at _Shirley_.

"Well might you show me where it is then?" I said exasperated while doing a mini head bob to display my annoyance.

"Might not." He leaned back down to the microscope, incredibly smug at his manipulation of my words.

"Sherlock! Miss Grey, I can show you where it is." John scolded then tried to make up for his distant friend. I made a wave of dismissal as I tromped up to Sherlock's side and leaned down to his ear.

"Either you show me where it is, _or_ I knock your precious specimen over and onto the floor kay, love?" I put so much sugar into that one sentence I hoped he had a toothache from it. He looked over at me, his eyes widened slightly and quickly went back down to normal size. I suppose he realised just how close we were. I was like a centimeter away from his face, that must have been a bit traumatizing seeing as he seemed to be a human robot. Abruptly he stood up and began putting on his outdoor gear that included a trench coat and scarf and began to walk away.

"Coming, Miss Gray?" I grinned and trotted after him trying to keep with with my little legs and his enormously long ones.

"It was nice meeting you!" John yelled as we left with some disbelief colouring his voice as he took in me running after the man.

"And you as well!" I yelled back with a grin on my face. These two were far more interesting than anyone I'd ever met. 


	2. Call me

Soon we came up to the break room, I popped inside with Sherlock standing by the door frame and handed William his lunch with a kiss on the cheek, trying to ignore the death glare I was being given. He'd always insisted I gave him lunch but refused to actually take it in the mornings. I knew it was a power grab but I'd been minding my time. I'd find a way. 

"You're always bloody late, Rosalyn. Lunch's nearly over." William scolded as he peeped into the bag and nodded to himself. I suppose cold chicken and carrots would suffice in his eyes.

"Perhaps everyone else is just early?" I queried with some humour apparent in my voice. He rolled his eyes at that and looked back behind me again, this time I looked too. Sherlock was just standing there, watching everyone come in and go out. His eyes scanned much like a snakes or lizards would.

"He's awkward, that one." William nodded towards the tall man, seemed like he wanted to make conversation while he ate.

"I don't know about that, I quite like him." I looked back at Sherlock. He seemed to have a grasp of seeing the reactions but not understanding the original motive. In my eyes, when you didn't understand the motive, there was no way to manipulate the reaction and therefore it wasn't nearly as fun.

"Of course you do. Just go. No! Not a word. We'll talk about it later." He dismissed me and held up a finger as I tried to speak. I frowned at his finger then shrugged, turning to walk away. He caught me for a second as his eyes drifted over to Evie, I looked back to see her nearly glaring at us. Odd. I looked back down as he dropped my hand and took a step back, giving me a robotic nod. Oh. I see. I turned and followed Sherlock without any real thought, sitting at my original place when we came back to the lab area. This was a change in plans.

"Oh. Hello! I'm uh, Molly Hooper. You are?" She asked quickly as she took in Sherlock's appearance and focused on mine. 

"Rosalyn Grey." I nodded at the short odd women. She worked here it seemed, displaying a name tag. 

"You do realize, of course, that your husband and the head nurse are having an affair." Sherlock sounded off after a second of silence fell over the room. It seemed Hooper had arrived in my absence, greeting us and explaining who she was.

"Sherlock!" John scolded nearly immediately as I nodded at Sherlock.

"Of course."

"Riveting words. I believe thats grounds for the divorce you're obviously looking for." He continued, undeterred by John.

"Not entirely." I sighed as I leaned back. William had...connections of sorts. The same ones he'd threatened me with ages ago when I first became unhappy. I'd only pushed until he seemed to have snapped and hit me after a night clubbing. After that I'd been sneaking around and sulking. He didn't give much away outside of annoyance and anger, valued his job, his pride, and his mistress. I'd become determined to find a way to wound one of those without needing stitches.

"Ehm... Maybe this isn-"Molly looked between us, with some confusion.

"What else could be stopping you?" He sounded curious cutting off Molly. I felt eyes on me, scanning.

"What indeed." I parroted as I grinned, looking at the wall of body containers in the other room. I was refusing to give him many clues or answers without some amount of personal gratification. 

"Money? Sex? Blackmail? Abuse? Oh." He counted off possible reasons.

"You're worried he'll hit you. You won't leave him for it." He recounted, searching for the bare tensing of my shoulders with my back turned to him.

"Nope! Best try again, Mr Holmes. Or have you given up already?" I sang as I turned back to him, grinning. He was interesting me again, even though I was playing a game of sorts. I saw the challenge register in his eyes as he started scanning again, he'd vomit out a volley of observations and what he felt they meant about me.

"You're uncomfortable in those, meaning you'd rather have shabbier clothing meaning money isn't much of a worry. Obviously one such as yourself doesn't have issues attracting the opposite sex given your comfort level with my proximity and John's reoccurring leering not even a jump in your heart rate. No you're used to this. Your name then. It would have been smeared long ago if it was black mail no you've been thinking about this for _years_ , which leaves us with abuse. Given the little scar right here, I'd say you two have had a run in before. Perhaps when you first brought up the divorce, he didn't take it well, it was a blow to his masculinity of course. He broke the mirror, used it against you." I watched with some morbid fascination as he walked up, putting his face into mine, taking my hand and letting it go after his point was made concluding my heart rate. He'd have the last word even if it killed him.

"So it was abuse. Couldn't bear to try again? No...You want revenge. You want him to pay for the supposed damage. Well? Am I right? " He demanded like a petulant child. 

"It wasn't a mirror." I looked back down at the jagged mark on my forearm and smiled back into Sherlock's face, the urge to shock and confuse him grew as he looked more and more sure and victorious. I wanted to knock it off his face.

"What then?" He frowned as he seemed to think about all the possible weapons that might had caused such a scar.

"It was the bedroom window. Four in the morning, nearly had the cops called." I whispered as I moved quickly with his face still in range and pecked the very tip of his nose. I sat back with a grin as he seemed to almost malfunction, frowning and staring.

"Well he was right about that. 0 hesitation there." John mumbled from the side, I looked over to him, still grinning.

"Have I broken him?" I nodded back towards Sherlock who stood abruptly, going back to his microscope without a word.

"God knows. Probably the first women to have ever kissed him outside of his own mother." John shrugged as he sighed. He was still exasperated over the fact the he had no background knowledge on me, I could tell from his face and posture. 

"Ha-Have I missed something here?" Molly's voice squeaked out as the room went silent once more.

"I don't believe so, love." I looked back at her tilting my head, calculating. She had a crush on him. Had one for quite a while. She was used to his attitude but seemed to still hold some romantic notations for the man.

"How do you two know each other then?" Molly asked with some fierceness to her voice. She was used to the attitude from him not I. I wasn't getting a free pass. Damn.

"I've just met him, don't worry. I'm married." I let the warmth coat my voice as I gave her an inviting smile and a wink, dismissing the idea. I'd rather sleep with the soldier than Sherlock, it'd ruin the game otherwise. I felt his eyes on my back again. He seemed to have a serious gaze for me to physically _feel_ him watching.

"You don't particularly _act_ like you've just met him. "She looked relaxed at my attitude but still a little on guard, she didn't fully believe me. I wanted to drag the man in myself, see if he'd drown or stay afloat.

"It was love at first sight. Wasn't it, dear?" I spun back around with a sickly honeyed smile, the sarcasm oozing.

"Like a bullet to the lung." He mumbled as he peered up from the microscope with a nearly blank expression. I almost didn't notice the left corner jump up then shoved back down into a relaxed position. He found it funny.

"You know a month ago, he wouldn't have understood you weren't serious. You're welcome!" John called out with some dry humour evident.

"Your work will be credited. Don't worry, John." I grinned up at him and heard my alarm go off. It was time for me to head home. I stood and stretched, my shoulders and back cracking as my shirt rode up the slightest, gathering along my curves.

"You've got scoliosis." Sherlock muttered behind me, I looked over my shoulder at him and raised a brow.

"You've only just now noticed this? Your observational skills are lacking, Shirley." I commented with a smirk as I slid on my coat, pulling out my hair from around the collar. He looked sour at my statement as I smirked and ripped a bit of his note paper off, leaving his actual notes intact. I wrote down my number and walked towards John, maintaining eye contact. His were alert and interested as they took me in, he was curious.

"Call me if you're ever bored, love." I dictated as I dropped the paper into his shirt pocket, letting the doors swing behind me. He was cute for a good shag if nothing else.

 


	3. A Run-in With the British Government

"Rosalyn, how lovely to see you once again." My husbands associates were over for dinner tonight, the help was cleaning and cooking as each official stepped in and out of the food and drink area. I'd slept with all the single men however I'd found that one of them in particular seemed to hang around myself this evening. He seemed a few years older than Sherlock however they also seemed to share similar eyes. That fact had me wondering if they were related.

"Can I help you Mycroft?" I didn't look over at him when I asked, maintaining my position along the back wall of the dining area. I saw him chuckle out of the corner of my eye but the sound died when it was matched with 12 officials chatting.

"I was wondering how many bumps to the waist it would take for a piece of your attention Mrs Barsworth." He sounded out silkily. His voice didn't have the same ring to it as Sherlock's but I'd begun to pick up on their mannerisms. I was almost entirely certain the two had to be related now.

"You've made quite the discovery then, sir. It was two." I drawled and took a sip of my champagne. He was scanning me in a reptilian fashion but instead of a repressed otter, I found his features reflect more of an angry old man.

"Indeed I have. I was wondering perhaps if I might take you up on your offer." He intoned, taking a sip of his. I'd slept with him once, I believe, and found I wanted a repeat.

"And what caused you to think I might be interested tonight?" I quipped as I looked into my hands, pondering the thought. I was practically screaming it to true observer however many others would simple glance over my clothing. 

I'd donned a revealing gown made from attention attracting colours such as a vivid red, orange, copper, and light gray. It had a narrow skirt that flares at the bottom to accent my waist and hips with a gathered waist. The single long gathered sleeve was more of a freedom of movement slight pointed towards my husband. The entire thing was accented with lace to attempt a more refined look needed for these functions. I wanted to see if he too had the ability to simply vomit out an array of observations, perhaps it ran in the family.

"Well your flashy apparel choices for tonight but also the fact that you've been glancing at nearly every gentleman in here, _excluding_ your husband, Madame." He retorted with some grace that he'd obviously gained over a number of years. Sherlock hadn't, instead the man sort of just threw out every possible thing he'd thought of in the five seconds he looked at you.

"Fascinating." I murmured as I took my leave, going towards the door. I heard the set of footsteps trail along behind me, the heeled shoes clicked as my own did. A black car pulled up around the corner, Mycroft gracefully opened my door allowing me to slide in before he shut it. The ride was in silence as Mycroft's hand slipped over to cradle my own, I had a feeling he'd be more romantic the second time 'round. I wasn't entirely sure if I'd speak to him for a third.

He got out first again, opening my door and taking me by the hand into his apartment of sorts. It seemed he'd owned the building but only truly lived on the first floor in this area, I couldn't tell much at night.

The door shut with a loudish thud behind us, I listened for the noise of a pet, a mouse, even the sound of a clock ticking. It was completely and utterly silent, almost worryingly so. He led me to the living room, two chairs in front of a rather extravagant fireplace, faces and a birds molded into it's aged marble. The path getting here however felt like a dark winding maze of hallways.

"You prepared for this. What made you so sure I'd agree?" I asked quietly, taking a sit and crossing my legs over one another.

"Merely a precaution I assure you, my dear." There lay a bottle of wine on ice surrounding by fruits of various forms. I spotted a piece of dragon fruit and plopped it into my mouth, I was comfortable in this element. I knew what was coming as he poured me a glass. I'd found the more I drank, sometimes the better the shag was.

"As riveting as I find you inebriated, I'd rather this one you truly remembered." Mycroft broke the comfortable silence as I licked my lips after the second cup of wine. I lazily looked over at him to find that his blues had darkened enormously, what was more telling was the tightness in the material of his trousers as I turned my body fully towards him.

"Is that so?" I stood balancing on my heeled shoes, taking a step only to kneel next to his knee. His eyes followed my every movement, taking in each action with interest. I placed an elbow gently on his knee as I leaned my head on the open palm.

"It is. You've always got the...most interesting array of expressions this way." Mycroft leaned closer, hovering millimeters from my lips as he spoke. I leaned ever so closer, eager to begin and brushed our mouths together, I was nipping at Mycroft's lower lip. He kissed me again, softly tasting with his tongue and molding himself against my lips.

Mycroft let out a small sound. It was his breath only, not entirely a moan or groaning noise, softly gripping both of my thighs as he let himself enjoy the kiss. Even so far as to return it, deepening it as he went. His hands slid higher to grip my waist as he pulled back.

"My bed is much better. Come along." His hands guided me to stand with him as he stood. He left his hand around my waist as he led me to the stairs, and up to his bedroom. It was a loose grip that often traveled down to my arse to squeeze and come back up. He closed the door, and reached for a remote. He turned on the gas fireplace, which sprang to life with a wuff, instantly lighting the alcove.

"I'm going to undress. Please feel free to do the same, love." Mycroft turned for his bath. I slid off my bracelet and rings, the gems glinted back at me with some mischievous thoughts in their light. Next came the dress, it floated to the ground and landed with a soft thud on the hardwood. I laid myself down into the soft bed, angling everything just so.

He returned a few minutes later in a long wool dressing gown that draped almost to his bare feet. The man was enticed with his money and had every right to be so, I was genuinely interested now. I stood, the warmth of the fire caressing my bare skin, walking over and sliding my hands into the sleeves of his gown to take it off of him. He stopped my hands, gripping them as he looked into my eyes. I raised a brow at him.

"What I want, Rosalyn, is to enjoy this. My tongue in nearly all your holes. My cock in your mouth and to fuck you so hard that you'll be sore tomorrow. I won't be nice about it. Are you okay with that?" He slid a hand around my waist, pulling me closer to feel his hardened length against my stomach and hip. I bit my lip as I thought about it. Its not as thought I wasn't already thinking about that all.

"Perfect." Mycroft spoke up as I looked back at his eyes,

"Oh. I've said that out loud, have I?" I whispered as he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and pulled me close.

"Indeed you have." He nodded, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I suppose you have your answer then." I grinned as I grinded against his front. It seemed like a rubber-band had snapped in Mycroft's mind as he reacted instantly to my ministrations. He kissed me hard, teeth and tongue, nearly fucking my mouth with it. It seemed he wished his tongue were larger, but he thrust it as far in as he could, blocking my air, making me truly feel the intensity I dropped my hand to run my palm over him in his gown.

"Oh. I had hoped." His voice was crackly and dry as I rubbed and squeezed lightly. He pressed me back beside the mantel, as I dropped to my knees, arranging Mycroft's robe behind him. I slid my mouth down as Mycroft seemed to lose some form of concentration, thumping my head against the plaster. I licked him up and down, I watched his toes curl and he gripped at my shoulders. The taste was briny as usual but I tried not to breath in the smell of him.

"Flick the head, use your tongue." I abided by his commands and ended with a swirl of my tongue. He groaned as he pulled out of my mouth abruptly, taking a second to control himself as he pointed to the bed.

"Get on the edge of the bed, spread your legs." He commanded with a breathy voice. I chuckled to myself as I nodded, positioning myself just so again.

Mycroft practically levitated off the floor, swirling his robe in his haste. He sat at the foot of the bed, scooting back just a bit, as I felt his breath tickle me. He ran his palm over my chest, as he slide his tongue over my clit then back down to penetrate my hole. At first I was just acting out the motions, letting him feel good when he hit an actual rhythm, it forced a moan out of my chest as I bit down on my lip. After a second, I came with a mild groan and a light haze ringing in my ears, I realised where he'd positioned himself as I slapped a hand over my now sensitive hole.

"Condoms?" I asked with 0 drink or lust in my voice, this was serious. I was on the pill but I wasn't intending on ever getting checked.

"I'm clear. Are you clear?" I nodded slowly at his question as he leaned over me, nuzzling my ear.

"I'm still going to require a condom, dear." I ordered as I raised a brow. He sighed and nodded, sliding one on. I watched with clear eyes as he opened the package, checked it for my confidence and slid it over his member.

Mycroft gripped my hips as he pulled himself into me, giving an experimental thrust. I gave him a quiet moan to aid his confidence. It seemed to have done the trick as he scooped my legs together, wrapping them around his torso as he groaned with excitement. I didn't look him in the eyes as he leaned over me, mashing my mouth with his. His kisses and thrusts became more desperate as he started near the climax, I laid there and moaned trying to push him over the edge as I edged myself to thrust against him when he did so.

This appeared to have worked best because he came, hard. Gripping my forearms with some strength as he laid his head into my collar bone. He was breathing hard as he bent at the waist. He slid out, walking back to the bathroom and closing the door. I could hear the water running in the room and decided he was cleaning himself. I stood, stretching again as I looked into his closet for a shirt or a long jacket. I spotted one and wrapped it around my frame, taking my shoes with me.

"Miss Grey, as much as I appreciate the sight of you in my clothing, I was thinking more along the lines of you residing here for the night if you were available. A car will take you anywhere you wish and clothes will be provided." His voice sounded off of my back, I turned back to him. He was leaning on the door frame, sipping a bottle of water. What the hell? Did the man have water stacked in his bathroom?

"I suppose I could be amenable to this." I nodded and walked back into the warm bedroom, sliding under the sheets with his body next to mine. It felt odd sleeping here as I didn't last time but again, it seemed like the man was attempting to court me with romantic overtures. His arm rested over my waist as his lips softly touched the back of my hair and head. I was still a little clammy from the workout but fell asleep quickly.

"Is the car ready?" I asked softly as I took a sip of my tea. He paused his own sip and lowered the cup, taking in my features.

"Are you entirely ready to leave, Rosalyn?" I'd found that the man was overly prepared in his preparations for my stay, in his own bathroom he'd gotten the minimal starter kit of base, lipstick, and mascara as well as feminine deodorant and clothing in my own size. I'd decided on a simple pair of jeans and sweater, pulled my hair up and slapped on make up.

"I would suppose so as I'm asking if the car is ready." I raised a brow at his attempts to have me stay longer. We both knew this wouldn't continue and it seemed that the man was having issues grasping my words.

"Of course. Take this then." He raised a brow at my attitude and took a step forward, revealing a silver flip phone from his suit pocket. It seemed the man wore only suits at times.

"And why should I?" I asked as I crossed my arms, beginning to feel smothered. He was an affair, not a commitment and I wasn't entirely sure he'd understood that...Though...at the same time, the man reeked of power. Perhaps it was in my best interest to keep him around.

"It's merely an instrument that allows me to talk to you undeterred by possible peeping toms. It may also be used if an emergency arrived." He pushed the phone into my hand as I relaxed my expression. I was going to keep him around.

"Ah of course. Thanks, love." I winked as I heard the car pull around to the side. I sat down my cuppa and pulled on my original coat, taking my leave of the man. He pulled me back for only a hair of a second to plant a gentle kiss on my cheek, letting me go and sipping the tea like nothing had happened.

"Super market, please, Andrea. The one right before Baker Street, I wish to go unnoticed." I greeted his personal assistant as I got in. I was hungry but wanted to get my own food instead of allowing Mycroft to cook or have one of his employees to cook.

"Good night then?" I looked out the window as I watched the neighbourhood change, it faded from the posh atmosphere to a lower income area.

"I would say so." I replied neutrally. I didn't put it past the man to have this car bugged.

"Has he already revealed his intentions?" She asked cheekily as I glared at her, giving her my answer. She shrugged and continued to type on her blackberry, letting the silence roam. I got out of the car around the corner and closed the door behind me. I'd left the cell phone behind on purpose and I'd hoped that she wouldn't realize until much later.

* * *

 

"Yes, all right! I've got it!" I heard a familiar voice call out as I stood behind in the self checkout line.

"Keep it! Keep that!" I peeked around the man in front of me to see John getting more and more exasperated with the machine.

"Mr Watson?" I called out over the man in front of me to find John turn his head 'round rapidly as he tried to see where I was. I waved as his eyes landed on me, I wasn't wearing heels this time making it much harder to be noticed outright.

"Oh. Rosalyn." He stopped his mad march away from the machine as I abandoned my shopping to walk alongside him. I was hoping I'd see Sherlock again. It'd been a week or two since I had seen the man.

"You've not messaged me." I accused, light and halfheartedly as I walked quickly beside him.

"Well...You're married! I'm not a bloody adulterer." He seemed to have to think about that for a second before he spat out the words like it was entirely too obvious. I giggled at his beliefs and shrugged.

"Thats a shame. " I supplied with mirth as the silence edged on. We came upon Baker Street, John had his eyes on a particular black door near a cafe. 221, the number read out. It must have been where they lived.

My guess was confirmed as he opened the door and marched up the stairs to another open door. I scanned the room, a glint of light caught my eyes from under Sherlock's feet. Interesting.

"You took your time." Sherlock didn't look up from his book until I stepped inside the flat. Then his eyes trained on me, taking in each detail.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping. Care for a cuppa? Or?" John sighed, turning back around to me.

"Oh I'm fine, love." I shook my head with a small careful smile.

"What? Why not?" Sherlock's eyes snapped back to John with indigence.

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine." He spoke tetchily as he glared at the wall behind us.

"You ... you had a row with a machine?" Sherlock's mouth tipped up ever so lightly as he lowered the book almost entirely.

"He really did. Poor thing just had to sit there and take it." I commented with some mirth as I took the seat offered to me by John. Sherlock's eyes were trained on my own again, apparently I'd gotten his attention once more. I found I was enjoying it, it meant he was interested in playing.

"Have you got cash?" John asked as he went into the kitchen, rummaging around.

 _"_ Take my card." Sherlock called out, still keeping his eyes on mine. I raised a brow as I gave him a smirk, I was about to push him just a tad.

 _"_ You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." John called out with some annoyance as he walked up from the kitchen again.

"Wouldn't be nearly as much _fu_ _n_ would it, Mr Holmes?" I asked cheekily as he glowered at me. He knew to what I was referring, in particular the gash in his coat and the sharpened metal beneath his seat. It had to have been new from the fact that Sherlock seemed to be going through some lengths to keep it hidden.

"And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?" John asked, completely unaware as he rummaged through the wallet. His eyes jumped from mine to John to the sword, poking out. I licked my lip as I slid a foot out ever so quietly, between his legs towards the sword. I was playing with him again, I wanted to see his reaction.

"Not interested. I sent them a message." He snapped the book shut as he slammed a foot down, stopping me and kicking the sword back under the chair. I pouted as he kept my foot secure between his, still scowling at my actions.

"Right, well I've got it. I'll leave you two...alone then." John came back into clear sight, I looked over at him innocently as he peered at our entwined legs. I'm sure this looked far more romantic than it was. He nodded to himself as he mumbled obscenities under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time. Silence fell as the door shut behind him, leaving Sherlock and I to play.


	4. Teasing a Holmes Man

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked suspiciously behind his steepled fingers as he assessed my mood and appearance. His voice was empty of much emotion, leaving me with a ghost of fresh air compared to many others. Sometimes it got tiring when you took in nearly every emotion someone was feeling in a single moment.

"Fancy flat you've got, Shirley. Bit of a mess though." I commented, ignoring his question as I looked through the book titles. Many were encyclopedias or educational books on things like music, emotions, and persuasion. Nothing but the deductions came naturally to the man, interesting.

"You're avoiding going back to your home. You drank last night, slight swelling in your arms. Treated roughly. Why not go to your parent's I wonder?" He pondered out loud, trying to intimidate me with another round of deductions.

"Mm. Yes. Of course. I'm a recovering alcoholic that likes it rough." I winked at him as he raised a brow at that.

"Maybe they don't approve of the drinking and late night sex. It obviously wasn't marital." He continued.

"It makes it more interesting that way, dear. Could always call and give it a shot." I sang as I looked at him. He stared at me for a second, glaring as his eyes searched again.

"Clothes are new, hes planned for your late night escapade. The make up isn't quite your tone, the dark circles under your eyes and the coffee breath suggest that you've just come from his home." He grounded out with some force, glaring harder at me.

"You know, earlier this morning I met a man who reminded me of you, Shirley. Went by the name of hmmm..." I wasn't biting, keeping a schooled tolerant expression and posture as I put a finger to my lips. My parents were dead. They had been since William and I were wedded, 5 or 6 years ago. In a way they freed me, it left me with no true connection. He stopped speaking, watching me. I'd garnered his attention again and I was almost enjoying it.

"Oh I'm afraid I don't recall. What a pity it is to be so ordinary." I was teasing him as I took the finger away from my chin. It'd leave him wondering and guessing which gave me new levels of amusement.

"We both know thats not entirely true." He glowered at me as I giggled and shrugged, looking at his side table.

"Are you so sure?" His phone was there, I stood still bent at the waist as I placed my hand on his knee to reach across and grab it. I sat back down softly and crossed my legs, opening the phone. I tilted my head at it. It was password protected.

"Possibly. More of my equal than anyone else. However...I do wonder why you'd bother trying to hide anything. You're child's play to read." I glanced up at Sherlock over the phone, he was smug now as he sat there smirking to himself. He thought I wouldn't be able to get into it.

"Is that so?" I asked slowly, licking the inner ring of my mouth as I stared at him from over the phone. I watched his eyes follow my tongue as he swallowed. Men.

I first continued to type to see how long it could be then started crossing out possible combinations in my mind. He'd want it to be something clever. Something he thought only he could possibly figure out but also not important to him. I looked around the room at the open medical journals and pages of notes, bags of evidence. Perhaps something chemical? My eyes strayed to the kitchen, a microscope stood like a tower in field of disruption and disorganization. A rock glinted back at me. It seemed to be granite, different shades of colours stood out. I quickly typed in the name Topatourbiolilepiquorthite and hit enter. Well he was about to be sorely mistaken.

"I'd expected something more difficult from you, Mr Holmes." I quipped as I scrolled through his contacts, adding myself in as _The One and Only Rose_ with a grin.

"Humourous." He scowled, looking off to the side. I got bored with his messages, it wasn't any fun to rearrange the names. He'd most likely already memorized the numbers and would change it back in an instant.

"You do realize we'll need to go get you another coat, right? John's going to notice the gash in the collar." I commented as I looked out the window at the street below us. It was a quiet hour apparently, every once in a while there was a single person walking down the street. I felt his breath on my shoulder and snorted when I turned to find him looking out the window quizzically.

"I was wondering what was out there that brought the coat to your mind." He explained as he sat back down into the office chair with an oomph, opening John's laptop and going through it.

"Naturally." I countered as I curled up into Sherlock's chair, enjoying the leather's heating qualities against my skin. I flipped through the telly, searching for anything mildly entertaining. I settled on a rerun on Sky Arts to do with the painter Dali. I fell asleep as they began to talk about inspiration. My dreams were blank when I woke up to the feeling of a hand on my cheek. I opened my eyes lazily to see green frowning back at me. I stared at his for a second as he stared back.

"I hope you're not in the practice of touching women whilst they sleep, Mr Holmes." I drawled with a slight smirk as I raised a brow at his position and proximity.

"Why did you call out my name?" His head tilted as he frowned at me, mumbling under his breath.

"I've not a clue as to what you're talking about." I deadpanned as I stared at him. I couldn't remember what I'd dreamed about and I wasn't about to entertain the thought. I heard the front door open and close, attracting my eyes to peek at the flat's door as Sherlock sat in his office chair once more, still frowning.

"You could bloody help once in a while...Oh. Rosalyn, you're still here." John came into the flat cussing out Sherlock's lack of help as he went. He stared at me for a second as I stared back at him, sitting up and loosening my joints.

"I see you still have use of your eyesight, John. Thats lovely news." I teased as I patted him on the shoulder, going for the bathroom to straight up my hair. I heard a low snort behind me and assumed Sherlock was amused. It was the only door and it was open just enough for me to see the tiled floor, it gave the confidence that was the bathroom.

I smoothed down the fly aways and wiped the mascara out from under my eyes. Much better. I still looked a tad hungover but honestly it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I watched my hands, avoiding the odd coloured soap that I felt had been handled by someone other than the manufacturer. I could hear John scolding Sherlock for using his computer and then a muffled question that received no answer as I walked out.

"I need to go to the bank." Sherlock stated distractedly as he looked at me. I raised a brow at that, John looked back at me with a question in his eyes. Abruptly Sherlock stood and grabbed his jacket, handling the cut around the corner gently. I shrugged as I followed behind John, he'd tell me when I wasn't meant to go.

"Rosalyn Grey." I greeted with a slow smile forming at the clean cut man I'd come to understand was called Sebastian Wilkes. His watch was set back a day or so, which bothered me. I fought off the urge to correct it as I sat down and crossed my legs. I was vaguely aware that John stood behind us at the door. His smile reflected his thoughts as he let his eyes trail down my front, only to be interrupted by Sherlock's obvious throat clearing. I looked at the man to find him thinly veiling his dislike with a forced smile.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you? You've done well." Wilkes commented as he slapped him on the arm.

 _"_ This is my _friend_ , John Watson." Sherlock motioned back to John as if he was a prize. He'd gone to school with Wilkes or had a job to work closely with him on eight years ago. He'd most likely been just as much of a hermit as he seemed to be today.

"Friend?" Wilkes looked been me. I nodded towards John with another slow smile.

"Colleague." John corrected awkwardly.

"Right. Right." Wilkes was thinking, the gears winding in his head as he took in myself, then glanced at John. As he sat back, he seemed to throw a look at Sherlock that confirmed my theory of him being a hermit. It showed his surprised that Sherlock would ever have a friend.

"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water? Tea, Miss Grey?" He looked back at me.

"Oh I'm fine, love." I winked at him and watched with some mirth as he paused and cleared his throat, blushing almost. He looked back at John then Sherlock who shook his head, no.

"No." John said awkwardly after Wilkes regained his composure.

"No? We're all sorted here, thanks." He spoke to the secretary over his little desk system, releasing the button, and leaning back in his chair. The man was newly tanned, still a pinch pink as he looked at me.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock sounded off as we sat in silence, Wilkes eyes left me as he looked over at Sherlock, shrugging.

"Well, some." He admitted.

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" Sherlock surmised. It dawned on my that this was the reason his watch was set back and he'd been so tanned.

 _"_ Right. You're doing that thing." He let out a forced chuckle as he nodded. Wilkes looked back at me like he was going to explain some joke to me.

 _"_ We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do." He laughed almost cruelly now, looking towards me as he waved a pen.

"That so?" I bit out as I felt my lips press together in annoyance. I didn't enjoy this man making fun of him. At all.

"It's not a trick." Sherlock spoke quietly as if he'd been beaten down before from this. I glanced at him and watched his face melt into a frown.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." He declared as he looked towards John.

"Yes, I've seen him do it." John agreed with some humour in his voice. That irritated me even more, this was his friend and he was making fun of him.

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him. You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night." He glanced back to me almost suggestively as I saw Sherlock looked away, the pain was evident to me I supposed it was really only my knack for it that allowed me to see it.

"I simply observed." Sherlock forced out, crossing his arms.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell? You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhatt-" He leaned back, smug now but not allowing Sherlock to continue. I'd had enough.

"Mr Wilkes, was it?" I cut in with a forced air of politeness that silenced the room.

"Yes, Miss Grey." His attention was on me as he nodded, where I wanted it. I cleared my throat as I thought about the words.

"Mm. Yes. I fail to see how this has anything to do with your original reason for calling us here, _sir_." I intoned tightly and spat out the sir as I finished. He looked taken aback as I placed my hand on Sherlock's thigh which tightened then relaxed under my touch as he put his hand over mine. I watched with some amount of gratification as Wilke's face fell. I knew he'd been interested if only marginally. The action served to show he'd failed to have my interests.

"Right. I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." He laughed humorously as he swallowed tightly, standing and motioning for us to follow. I decided to a step back as he led Sherlock, informing him.

"What was that?" John hissed as he looked at me, suspiciously. I raised a brow, still irritated with his lack of action.

"Men are often a simple breed, Mr Watson. I observed his interest and used it to shoot him in the foot." I digressed as I took in the blonde ex-soldier. He looked taken aback at my lack of a smile. I was serious and tight-lipped as I stared at him. Sometimes I felt like the man was daft but I often felt like that about many people.

"Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asked Wilkes, looking between him and the door.

"Nothing. Just left a little message." He responded as he waved a card in front of it's scanner.

On the wall to the left of the portrait someone has sprayed what looks like a graffiti tag in yellow paint. The tag looks vaguely like a number 8 but with the top of the number left open, and above it is an almost horizontal straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait itself, another almost horizontal straight line has been sprayed.

Perhaps because of the texture of the paper or perhaps because the 'artist' over sprayed the line, the yellow paint has run trails down the painting. Wilkes led the way towards the desk and then stepped aside to allow Sherlock a clear view of the wall. John moved to stand on the other side of Wilkes, who looks at Sherlock expectantly while the man stared in fixed concentration at the graffiti. It'd dawned on my that this must have been his job. A detective of sorts.

My phone buzzed, I looked down at it.

**Detective's work doesn't suit you.**

**MH**

MH? He'd have to been watching. I looked around the room and found cameras looking back at me. Who did I know that started with an M?

**I'm finding that it suits me perfectly.**

**RG**

I replied back with a similar signature and decided I liked it. I'd stopped using William's name a long time ago. We left the room as he dragged us to the foyer, explaining their security systems. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked away from the ceiling cameras to Sherlock.

"What do you think?" He motioned towards the screen. I watched as Wilkes played it back again a few times.

"The balcony. Something's changed." I motioned to it on the screen with a finger. The curtains shifted ever so slightly to the left leading me to believe the balcony was involved. I looked back to see Sherlock with a ghost of a smile over his face. He seemed...proud?

"...There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures. This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way." He stated with some desperation as he took out a check from his breast pocket, going to hand it to Sherlock.

"I don't _need_ an incentive, Sebastian." He dismissed and turned with some arrogance in his step. I shrugged and followed him.

"There may be hope for you, yet." He looked back at me as we went down the escalator.

"I thought that was a pretty good move. Gave him the clue that we were a _pair_." I sang as I giggled at the thought. Not in a million years would I be a pair with Sherlock Holmes.

"Thats to be settled. I still want to know a few things but in time. I was thinking more along the lines of consulting work, Rose." He countered seriously as he faced forwards again.

"Oh how sweet. You called me _Rose._ " I teased with a grin as I put my hands on his shoulders and my head over his left shoulder.

"You've called me Shirley enough times." He decided, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

"I suppose so." I bit my lip as I thought about it and kissed his cheek, watching the magic happen again. He froze and stared forward but this time...his hand came up to touch mine on his shoulder? I tilted my head as he touched it with the force of a drifting feather and let go again. That was unexpected. I leaned back and kept my space, thinking about it. I was used to causing the reactions not having him turn this around on me.

We'd walked into an Edward Van Coon's flat, while Sherlock let us in. We'd picked through everything, decided there was something missing for the size of the suitcase and lack of clothing and now the police had arrived. I felt like it was time for me to go when I received another text _and_ had been introduced to a D.I

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met." Sherlock offers his hand to shake as the sergeant just put his hands on his hips, uninterested in his introduction.

 _"_ Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence. Is she even allowed to be here?" He motioned to me as I scoffed. He was stroppy if nothing else.

 _"_ I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?" He sounded hopeful as he let his hand fall back to his side.

"He's busy. _I'm_ in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock. Now again, is _she_ allowed to be here _?_ " He waved his hand over to me, irritated.

"Oh don't worry. I'm gone. _Dimmock_." I scowled as I turned and left. I'd dropped my number into Sherlock's phone already knowing he'd have noticed it when I was asleep. That meant if they really wanted me around, they could call. I stepped outside right as a black car went by, I received a text as I watched it pull to a stop.

**Get into the car, Rosalyn.**

**MH**

**No.**

**RG**

Oh good. Mystery texter knew my name. I looked up as the window rolled down, Andrea peered out at me. Bloody hell. MH is Mycroft Holmes. How could I have been so blind?

"Hello!" She greeted with a grin. I frowned.

"I'm not getting into that car, Andrea." I stated with determination as I crossed my arms. I knew it was Mycroft at this point and I wasn't giving in.

"Pleaaase? It'd make my job so much easier." She sounded miffed as she frowned back at me.

"No." I deadpanned and started walking down the street towards my house. She couldn't follow me to that point as she sighed and told the driver to drive on. It took me maybe an hour before I got to my house, it was nearly dark out. I opened the door slowly, listening for any sounds. The TV was on in his bedroom but that was it. He'd practically ignored my existence for today. It was common after a party. 

**Are we not adults?**

**MH**

**Watch me ignore you like an adult then, Mycroft.**

**RG**


	5. Oh

This continued on for a while into the week, he seemed to be on the phone 24-7. I knew he was on the phone with her. I'd continue to get texts from Mycroft and had wound up ignoring most of them, electing to flip the phone over and delete it.

After a constant to the hospital and back again, I'd gotten bored. Sherlock was never there anymore. I wandered until I came to a _NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM._ I shrugged and walk inside, wandering around the exhibits until I bumped into a chest. I looked up and spotted the familiar green eyes, peering down at me.

"Oh hello, Sherlock." I greeted as I looked at him. He seemed to have some swelling around the throat that worried me. I tilted my head as I hesitantly placed a finger on his neck. He froze under my touch. It was warm and definitely swollen...all the way around.

"Been choked lately?" I asked curiously as I let my hand fall back to my side.

"Sherlock! Co- Er." John came up, putting a hand on his shoulder as he paused. He'd noticed me.

"Mr Watson. I'm still waiting on a call." I smirked as his face narrowed. I was waiting for the obvious 'You're married' bit to come out of his mouth. He opened it right as Sherlock spoke.

"Are you offering?" He let a tip of his mouth come up into a smirk at my joke. I giggled at his joke, he seemed to have studied up on them while I'd not seen him.

"Offering what?" John asked, confused.

"I suppose I could. I'd need incentive. Lot of work to choke a man your size." I tilted my head as I switched legs, putting a hand on my hip. I'd been wearing a plain pencil skirt with black heels and a button up, it was nothing spectacular. Just what was expected of me as William's wife. I watched John switched legs awkwardly out of the corner of my eye. He felt out of place. I couldn't blame him.

"What about adventure? Tonight at midnight?" He asked smartly, smirking and leaning down closer to my face.

"I suppose I could take that just as well." I grinned back at him. He paused for a second, seeming to think before he pecked my forehead much like a hen would to eat grains off the ground. My head bounced back as I frowned at the air that once held a Mr Sherlock Holmes. What on earth was that?

"Di-did you two just set a date?" John articulated poorly.

"I'm not entirely sure. I feel more like I've just been pecked by a hen." I looked back at him and frowned deeper. Walking off as my heels clicked against the ground, I needed to think. I walked quickly out of the museum until I bumped into yet another chest. Okay, what the hell.

"Miss Grey." An accented voice greeted as I looked up. Oh good. Mycroft.

"Mr Holmes." I nodded as I took a step to the side and attempted to continue walking as an umbrella came out and stopped me.

"We really must have a discussion." He declared with a sigh. I couldn't blame him for being tired of me, I was tired of me at times.

"And you've found that stopping women with umbrellas is the most effective method to begin one?" I asked with a raise of my brow.

"I'm running short on alternative methods, madame. You've bested me." He sighed again as he lowered the umbrella. I nodded with some amount of self-pride as I stared at him.

"Then I'd suggest you began your discussion before I scream and run." I spoke seriously. I would do it and we both knew I would despite it's immaturity. He was quite a few years older than I. Closer to 40 than 30, while I was merely 27.

"I wish to court you." He said plainly, swinging the umbrella like a cane.

"No." I dismissed as I turned to take a step around him as he stopped me once again.

"Why?" He asked, exasperated now taking a step closer to cradle my face.

"I'm married." I scoffed as I put my hands on my hips as if it was obvious.

"That didn't stop you that night." He ran a hand along my jaw line laying it on my shoulder as I rolled my eyes.

"It doesn't stop me any other night either, I'll tell you that." I hinted at my affairs as his hand tightened.

"Then I'll pay for the divorce." He said decisively with a nod. I stared at him for a second, I wasn't below having him deal with the rap. I wasn't below it at all. If anything his colleague or supposed connection handing him a divorce was a much larger blow to the groin than me.

"Fine. You deal with it and I'll give you one date." I raised a brow as I put out my hand for him to shake. He frowned at me for a second before slowly realizing that these steep terms were the only ones he'd be getting. He shook it then brought it to his lips, letting my hand drop back down to my side. I nodded and stepped around him, going for the entrance to the tube back to my home.

* * *

**Get dressed.**

**SH**

**Someones commanding tonight.**

**RG**

I heard a knock on my door at precisely 1130 PM the next night. My phone buzzed as the message popped up on the screen. It was an unknown number. I frowned at it. I was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top as I opened the door hesitantly, William was "having another late stay at the office". Sherlock's pale skin seemed to glow under the lamps as he grinned back at me. John stood awkwardly next to him.

"Off you pop. Get dressed." Sherlock whispered, invigorated with the game that seemed to be afoot for him. I stared at him for a second, glancing over to John's pinched eyebrows.

"One day, your face is going to stick like that." I mumbled, a little tired, as I left the door open behind me, going up to my bedroom and changing into a set of leggings and knit sweater. When I came down, Sherlock was staring at my wedding picture.

"Your parents are here, five years ago...but there aren't any of them after. I'd wondered why you never stayed at their home." He mumbled as I took the picture out of his hands and set it down on the hall table.

"Riveting discovery, Mr Holmes." I said humourlessly as I pulled on my jacket, walking out of the house. Sherlock and John seemed to be mumbling behind me as we came up to the museum. They quieted themselves as we slid through the underground system thanks to Sherlock's lock picking skills. I'd been elected to sit inside the great circled room with Sherlock to wait on her. He seemed determined that she'd turn up here to finish her tea work. John was quiet as he sat between Sherlock and I's whispering and bickering.

"Sherlock, I'm just saying...it was like I'd been pecked in the forehead by a rooster." I commented as I waved my hand into the darkness before me. He wasn't letting it go, he thought it was plenty good while I didn't agree.

"Nonsense. It was a kiss of good measure." He sounded resolute.

"It wasn't even a real kiss, Shirley." I mumbled as I crossed my arms in front of me.

"Well what _is_ one then?" He glowered into the dark next to John. I shrugged and paused as I heard a door opening. It was go time. She crept over and sat down in front of her ceramics, mixing the tea then pouring the water. Sherlock stood first, John and I waited.

 **"** Fancy a biscuit with that?" He asked smartly as she gasped and turned towards him. I smacked my face with my palm as I listened to his one liner.

"Centuries old. Don't wanna break that." He commented neutrally as he flicked on the light looking back at us.

"That was an awful line." I commented as I stood, walking with John.

"Then you come up with one." He huffed as he sat the teapot back down into her hands. I made a face at him as I stood next to him

"Hello." I greeted the woman as she awkwardly nodded at me. John remained silent, acting more as a look out as he sat down on the stool next to Sherlock. Sherlock fished a piece of paper from his pocket as he sat down, handing it to her. I looked between John and him and the lack of other stools and decided to play another game. I placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as I leaned over it, looking at the picture of a brick wall.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me."

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Sherlock frowned.

"So why come back here then?" I asked curiously as I hung off of the awkward detective.

"I had to finish ... to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me." She sounded paranoid to be perfectly honest.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" Sherlock leaned forward slightly, getting involved.

"When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognise his ... 'signature.' " She said with some air quotes.

"The cipher." Sherlock prompted as he held out the page.

"Only _he_ would do this. Zhi Zhu."

"Zhi Zhu?" John spoke up with a question as he leaned forward, looking between us.

"The Spider." Sherlock and I chorused. John looked unnerved as we did. I'll admit we're odd. I could feel Sherlock's half smile on my cheek. It was odd how smooth his skin was.

"You know this mark?" The girl asked as she took off her shoe, motioning to a tattoo of a black lotus.

"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong." Sherlock nodded as I leaned forward, looking at it. Memorizing the sight.

"Hmm?" John queried as he leaned into the conversation again.

"Ancient crime syndicate based in China."Sherlock answered this time.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them. " She said decisively.

""Hauls"? " John checked as we all looked at him.

"Shes a smuggler, John." I sighed with some exasperation. I wasn't even sure why they wanted these ciphers translated. In fact I wasn't in on most of this case.

"I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses." She nodded. I'd realised this was exactly what I was avoiding with divorcing William. I had no siblings nor friends close enough to take me in. Only men who were married or unavailable, they'd never take me in.

"Who are they? " Sherlock pressed quickly.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life. " She smiled at the memories, practically in mourning for what had been. I was beginning to understand that who ever it was tagging at the bank and on the paper, this was a symbol for a smugglers group that Sherlock seemed determined to dismantle.

"Then he came looking for you." He continued.

"Yes. I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours – they are never very far away. He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen." She swallowed tightly, wiping away the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. Okay so now they were tracking something that was stolen as well? Or were they trying to use the item as bargain token? Or was it to use this to bring the cooperation down in England?

"And you've no idea what it was? John asked this time.

"I refused to help." She shrugged with the tears rolling freely now.

"So you knew him well when you were living back in China?" John pressed again as the woman nodded.

 _"_ Oh yes. He's my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan – the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting." She continued on, shaking a little in her voice. I tilted my head as the new information came in. She was next. This was why we were here, she knew the language and she was next on their line. The pair wasn't going to deal with the cooperation except to understand what it was they needed and to get it back to them in order to stop the murder.

"Can you decipher these?" Sherlock deposited the paper in front of her motioning to the numbers.

"These are numbers." She sniffled and looked at it.

"Yes, I know." I looked at the paper as she pointed at the different tags and Sherlock responded.

"Here: the line across the man's eyes – it's the Chinese number one." She looked back at him with a frown of slight confusion. He nodded quickly, his hair hit the side of my face as he did so.

"And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?" Sherlock was annoyed now, like he was running out of time.

"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book-" She started out hesitantly as the lights suddenly went out. He knew she'd die tonight. I felt Sherlock straighten out as I slid off his back.

"He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me. " She whispered full of fright. I leaned to try and comfort her when Sherlock grabbed my hand, pulling me across the room and out the door.

"Wha-" I asked as he stopped in the foyer area, putting a hand over my mouth. He was listening.

Oh. The killer was _out here._ So glad. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure run across a balcony. A second later I heard BANG BANG and dropped the floor almost immediately, searching for a wall of some kind. I was being bloody shot at!

BANG BANG BANG, it went. The sound of one whistled uncomfortably close to my ear then got the side of my arm as I scrambled behind a pillar of some kind. I'd learned how to fire a gun from my father but I hadn't handled one since my dad had died and this was my first time behind scraped by someone else. There'd been misfires in my learning but those were my own doing.

"SHOOT AT HIM FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. IDIOT." I yelled up at the balcony as I felt the wound. It felt wet and painful to say the least. I was pissed off now, my anger and adrenaline took control as I saw the figure dash off again and ran after him with the fury of a wolverine.

I reached the top of the stairs, and turned a corner, skidding slightly as I lost some traction. I heard Sherlock go past me as I regained it and pelted into a dark room filed with glass and skulls of some kind. Originally I was just going for the shooter's head but then as another BANG ignited into the room. I realized the gun fired again, close by but this time it was more a pop, leading me to believe the idiot had two different types. I laid myself against a stand, hoping it was strong enough to stop gunfire.

"Careful!" Sherlock warned, dragging the attention to him. The room echoed slightly, bouncing the sound off my side.

BANG BANG, another whistling sound as I jumped. These were far too close for my tastes. I yelped as the second bit into the tip of my shoulder, yanking it back from the side it'd stuck out on. I hadn't even realised it'd been showing until he caught it. I was breathing heavily as I heard a high pitched whine die off in my ears to reveal a dripping sound. I looked down to see a droplet land. It was my own blood. Great. Just what I wanted. I stripped off my sweater and threw it on the ground, mopping it up best I could. I crouched, angling my arm to sit in my lap so my leggings could collect the blood.

"Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!" Sherlock called out again. Deflecting his voice so it didn't land near my side again. I was thankful for that measure but still flexed, expecting another round. A minute later, there was no shots. I looked over and realised Sherlock was on the other side of the room.

"Thank you!" He called out as he looked at me from his side. I frowned as I hesitantly peeked around the corner. The moonlight showed no body standing there with a weapon, infact it showed nothing. I shook my head as I looked back at Sherlock's motions to the center of the room. I stood shakily taking the sweater with me, the adrenaline still pumping through my system. Hesitantly I took a step out and found nothing had happened, I began to look around as the thought hit me.

He wasn't even here for us. He'd been here for the girl and he just led us away from her. I started to run out of the room, the sound of Sherlock's feet hitting the ground followed close behind. I reached the twist of the stairs and jumped over it, my eyes on John's back as he goes through the set of open doors when I heard another BANG. It was over.

I stopped myself just short, being steadied by Sherlock's hands as I took in her corpse. It was much different seeing it like this than a Cadaver in my biology courses 6 years ago. This was a woman that I'd just been talking too, she was crying, she had emotions. I stared at it as the blood leaked out of the side of her head, a black origami lotus flower in the palm of her hand.

"Oh." I murmured as I stared. My own blood was dripping down my arm into my hand. I could hear John groaning near me. I felt a hand that wasn't my own on my unharmed shoulder and looked back to see black hair. It was Sherlock still, I leaned on him and lay my head on his bony shoulder. We'd fallen arseways with it.


	6. You know that they say...

An hour later I was sitting on the back of an ambulance, a needle in my arm pumping in drugs, as the areas were stitched up and disinfected at 1 or 2 in the morning. It was outside of the Museum, Sherlock and John were talking to the annoying D.I. Sherlock kept glancing back at me every few minutes as I watched the conversation with my sweater in my lap. I was honestly just sitting there in my bra but I found I didn't care.

I barely felt the needle cut through my skin as they went, if anything I was just numb at the moment. It was a different sort than I was used too. I felt empty as normal but I wanted to be around Sherlock more. He felt safer than the medical team currently handling my arm. The thought had me on edge if anything.

"Tomorrow, we prove theres a gang right under the smug bastard's nose. St Bart's hospital." Sherlock was standing in front of me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"That so?" I asked lightly as I looked back at the man that'd been stitching. He nodded at me and let go of my forearm after he put on a large band-aid to cover the wounds. It passed through my mind that I'd probably have a rash from the adhesive tomorrow but dismissed it to pay attention to Sherlock. I back as he took off his coat, putting it around my shoulders and buttoning it to cover my front.

"Indeed. I was wondering if you'd enjoy coming 'round for the big moment." He sat down next to me, staring forwards as John watched us with obvious interest. He was just milling about, waiting for something. Perhaps for us to leave?

"The big unveiling of feet?" I asked with a smile as I looked over at the curly hair. It wasn't even messy. I knew for a fact my hair was knotted in the back and rather crusty from dried blood.

"Well...yes. The big unveiling of the feet." He paused for a second before nodding with a small smile. He found it humourous as well.

"I've already put some blood and sweat into it, why not?" I shrugged as I stood and didn't stretch for once. It was hard to fight the urge but the pain in my arm had given me the strength to do so. Though it was lessening.

"Due to your wounds and the sizes of them I feel it would be best if you spent the night with a reputable doctor." His robotic voice had returned as he too stood, and looked at me than the arm.

"Uhm..." I raised a brow as he cut me off once more.

"Now as you're at ends with your abuser or husband or whatever, I would say it is in your best intentions to spend the night in 221B with said doctor." He motioned to John who then took a step up, like he was queued for it. I raised both brows as a smile cracked my neutral facade. He was trying to get me to spend the night and had coordinated with his flatmate. That was adorable. NO, ROSALYN. It wasn't adorable. We don't use that word.

"What word?" Sherlock asked with interest.

"Abuser." I paused for a second as I shrugged. That could be offensive right? Sure.

"You've not had an issue with it before." He frowned at me as he took in my expression, his eyes were zooming about again. He'd realised that I'd been thinking about something else but wasn't sure what. Well he wasn't about to find out, that was for damn sure.

"Your flat then?" I sighed as I tried to drag the conversation away from that. I wasn't in the mood. They'd given me painkillers and I wasn't interested in being around Sherlock when they kicked in. Sherlock frowned as he nodded towards a particular street. I hobbled behind, trying to not jar my arm too much.

* * *

The drugs had really kicked in half an hour after we'd left the area. It left me in a state of confusion and delight at the same time, everything had melted away. Even my balance had melted away. It left me stumbling around. After my second trip to face-plant the the gravel, Sherlock elected to carry me on his back. It was an odd feeling, being carried on someone's back. I'd forgotten what it was like when I was a child.

"Oh Mr _Watson!"_ I giggled as I hung onto Sherlock's back. He'd wound up piggy backing me with John behind me in case I decided to let go, I'd acted like I was to see what he'd do. The man went for my arse as I hung on, giggling. The world was moving in a daze as we went, the streets were quiet and the sun wasn't up yet. I was essentially fluthered, getting distracted and giggly with nearly anything.

"Good god, how close are we?" He ignored me to talk to Sherlock.

"Five minutes." He bit out as he shifted his grip on me. I giggled and laid my head down on his shoulder again, looking at the man.

"You're such fun to play with, Shirley." I sang out as I squeezed him with one arm.

"Am I now?" He sounded amused as he asked.

"Yes. But...we can't play much longer." I sighed into the crook of his neck. He smelled good. Like an aftershave and an expensive cologne maybe? There was some noise in the back ground as I focused on the smell.

"Rose?" He asked as he shook me gently.

"Yes Shirley?" I picked my head up.

"I asked why can't we play much longer?" He asked slowly. I thought for a second before it dawned on me.

"Because it won't be any fun when you leave me and I can't have that." I nodded to myself as I snuggled into the crook of his shoulder again.

"I'm not about to leave." I heard a mumble but ignored it. It was warm and comfortable. It was suddenly warmer now on the outside too I realised. I looked to the side to notice the familiar wall paper and bullet holes, we were back in 221B.

"She can sleep in my bed, Sherlock. Its not a problem." I heard John say with some insistence.

"Nonsense. You use your bed, John. I don't believe I've seen you change the sheets in the last month either. She needs a clean bed." He countered as he started down a long dark hallway. I watched as we passed by John and smiled at him. He was frowning and I didn't know why. I was laid down onto soft sheets, they were black. I looked down as my socks were slid off my feet and pulled now bare my feet back to me.

"I can undress myself easily, thank you. Plenty of practice." I declared with sass as I stood, swaying slightly. I righted myself and pulled off my bra, it was caught at my elbow, confusing me and my balance. I felt the world shift but I wasn't fast enough to stop myself as I tried to use my hands but couldn't move them from the trap that was my brassiere, apparently.

"I can tell." I heard a voice slip out with sarcasm as an arm was wrapped around my waist gently. It shifted me and sat me down as I huffed into the side of the lace. Slowly my bra was maneuvered around the elbow and I could see again.

"Lift your legs." He command with a complete lack of perversion in his voice. He was serious looking, in the zone even as he looked at my hips in the leggings. I obliged, giggling as I spread my legs and sat them on his shoulders, lifting my hips for him. I watched him sigh with mirth in my eyes as he shifted the crusted and bloody leggings off of my body, taking a step backwards to pull them completely off my feet. I was miffed as he merely tossed them behind him and went to his dresser, pulling out a black t shirt, wrangling it over my arm and onto my torso.

"Not even a pause, Shirley? Its no fun if you don't play too." I baited as I looked at him in my drawers and a shirt from the bed.

"I'm playing a much different game, Rose." He maintained eye-contact the entire time.

"I don't think you even know how to play anymore." I sighed as I bit my bottom lip to think, laying back onto the set of pillows.

"I'd say I do. I just enjoy taking my time to think about each move." A deep voice commented. I felt the bed shift abruptly as I realised he'd straddled me. I could feel something hard on my pelvis as he stared into my face, appraising every breath and blink. The action made me freeze up with confusion for a second. The man is a bleedin' asexual, what the hell is happening here?

"Not entirely. I've found I'm quite interested. You're attractive and we both know you take advantage. You can't run now that you've attracted _my_ attention." He said in a low voice, John must of been nearby for him to speak that low. I giggled as I realised he was trying to play with me now, wrapping a hand around his jaw to pull myself closer.

"I don't believe I can run. The world has apparently slowed down to the pace of a tortoise, much to my displeasure." I whispered as I pressed my lips against his, softly enough to barely touch them before I laid my head back.

"Was that a real kiss?" He paused for a second much to my delight. I'd gained the upper hand again.

"Not at all, Mr Holmes." I shook my head with a lazy grin appearing. His hand came up to trace my lips then his own with some amount of curiousity. I looked over as the door opened to reveal a shocked John Watson.

"Sherlock! She's injured and drugged, nows not the time to bloody roger the woman!" John scolded as I felt the hardness die away quickly.

"We were merely discussing plans." He said innocently, his face straightening itself as he looked over to John. His hand fell down to my legs.

"I don't care!" John sounded like an angry parent at this point, scolding his teenage boy for having his head up a bird's skirt.

"You don't want to join, _John_?" I let his name leave my lips with a lecherous tone, turning his cheeks pink. He glared at me. I jumped as I felt a flick on my throat. I rubbed it glowering at Sherlock as he reflected my expression.

"No." He scolded me like a mutt. I rolled my eyes and looked back at John.

"I better not hear that frame squeaking. She needs rest." He declared awkwardly as he closed the door.

"Hes right. We'll discuss it in the morning." I looked back at Sherlock as he leaned forwards to softly peck my forehead again. It wasn't nearly as rough at the first time, instead it seemed gentle. I felt the covers jerk out from under my arse as I watched them cover my legs all of a sudden. Wow I was moving slow tonight. Sherlock stood, turning off the lights as I felt a weight beside me. It'd been quiet for nearly forever before I felt a hand splay across my stomach.

"What are you doing?" I whispered into the darkness.

"Letting you know that I've not left." He whispered back as I frowned then shrugged.

"You know what they say, about evening a man is known." I declared with my own little bit of Irish wisdom as I practically passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

I awoke with some confusion and panic as I looked around the foreign bedroom. I jumped as I felt both a strike of pain in my arm and a hand squeeze my hip. I attempted to scramble up in order to sit but found my arm gave way as I did leaving me to lean awkwardly against a headboard. What on earth had I gotten myself into now? Oh my god I didn't have _pants_ on. Whose shirt was this?

"Rose..." I heard a voice yawn next to me and swiveled to stare at a mop of black curls around my waist. Nimble fingers drew patterns on my thigh as I sat there, shell-shocked. I remember now...

"Oh." I mumbled as I remembered the sounds of shots and the sight of blood.

"How's the arm?" The black curls asked as they shifted to reveal a pale face. It was Sherlock. Wait...

"Did...did we sleep together?" I hissed as I motioned to my frame. My memories had gone blurry and faded after we left the museum. This was not apart of the plan, Mycroft would be liable to fly off his nut.

"In a manner of speaking. Not quite as interesting as what you're suggesting, however." He stared at me for a second before nodding. He stood, stretching. I took in his body with embarrassingly hungry eyes. I wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with me, I couldn't quite turn away without trying to see him in the corner of my eye. He was athletically skinny in a pair of long night pants, though his chest wasn't as fit as a tennis players, it was fit enough for my chest to warm. He walked up, handling my arm with more care than I'd expected as he pulled away the covering, leaving behind it's rashy outline.

"It might interest you to know that your phone rang during the night." He commented offhandedly as he leaned closer to the stitches.

"Is that so?" I paused as I took in his tense posture and even smirk.

"Had a few words with your admirer. Didn't realise you'd shagged my own brother." He nodded to my question as he let my arm fall back to my side. I froze as I thought about Mycroft calling, I guessed he'd heard about it over the news or his stalkers watching my every move.

"Shouldn't a doctor be looking at my arm?" I deflected, referring to his original excuse for getting me here. I'd have to deal with that later, my arm ached right now.

"He will." He nodded as he rummaged through his dresser again, this time pulling out a pair of sweats and handing them to me. I hesitantly slid out of bed and pulled them on under his supervision. That threw me a bit. I'd never taken him for the dom type. He opened the door and motioned for me to walk out first. John was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup sat in a carved out niche of cleanliness amongst the mess.

"Have a good night?" John asked, glancing at us furtively as he took my arm, looking it over.

"I guess? Why?" I shrugged awkwardly. He stared at me for a good second. I was suspicious.

"Just wondering." He looked back at my arm with resilience.

"Whats going on here?" I furrowed my brow at it, there was something here that I wasn't being told.

"We'll be going in five minutes." Sherlock nodded to himself and turned back towards the bedroom.

"John...what happened last night after we got to the flat?" I put my hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes to search for a lie.

"Uh...I wasn't around. I came in and Sherlock was on top of you. You asked if I wanted to join and then I left." He whispered quickly, looking from me to the bedroom quickly.

"What _else_?" I hissed roughly, dragging his attention to me entirely.

"You could just as easily ask, Rose. Or even observe." A baritone voice sounded behind me as I sighed. I turned and glowered at him, annoyed I couldn't find my answers. Sherlock threw something towards me which I faltered a tad catching. It crash landed into John's paper, scaring him and myself. I peeked as John handed it to me roughly. It was my cell phone but it's calls and messages had been wiped clean. Of course it had been. I don't have the patience to deal with this right now. I glared at Sherlock who merely shrugged, sipping tea or coffee or whatever the hell he drank.

"Get dressed." Sherlock motioned towards the bedroom. I stomped past him as he closed the door behind us.

"Mrs Hudson wasn't able to get the blood completely out." He stated as he held my once black sweater, the holes in my shoulder and arm were sewn but only barely. So much for that sweater. I turned my back to him as he seemed determined to stay in the room while I changed.

I froze as I felt a finger trace my S shaped spine, it was incredibly alien to feel someone touching there again after a lack of doctors prodding and pushing. I stood there for a second, confused as I felt a soft kiss land on my shoulder then the sound of a door opening and closing. I turned around to find there was no Sherlock but my leggings were on the bed, freshly washed and folded. I'd have to thank this Mrs Hudson when I saw her next.

* * *

"Oh I see. Hes taken a page out of my book then." I commented as I watched Sherlock walk up to Molly Hooper, all smiles.

"Apparently so." John sighed.

"Pretty soon I'll have to start charging. So what about you, eh? Found yourself a girl?" I grinned back at John.

"Sorta. I've been eyeing 'er." He nodded quickly. A little proud.

"John! Shes a woman, not an antelope. You've been _thinking_ about her." I scolded and smacked his arm lightly with my good one.

"Yes, yes. That." He rolled his eyes and rubbed his arm. The conversation went on for a bit until she blushed and nodded. Lovely, she'd wheel them out for us.

* * *

Dimmock met with us a bit later as Sherlock stood next to me, his arms behind his back as he waited impatiently for the DI to stand near the bodies in their bags. John and I stood back a bit, it seemed this moment was more for Sherlock to show off than anything else.

"We're just interested in the feet." Sherlock said gaily as he stood at the end of a black body bag.

"The feet?" Molly frowned in her latex gloves as she zipped the face back up.

"Yes. D'you mind if we have a look at them?" He grinned at her, that one was a little terrifying. Too much teeth. She shrugged and unzipped them, revealing the black lotus tattoo that seemed to be universal.

"Now Van Coon." Sherlock said smugly as he straightened up and led the DI to the other side.

 _"_ Oh!" Sherlock gasped with mock shock evident in his face as he looked at the DI. I sighed at his face and looked away to John who was standing still, almost expressionless.

"So..." Dimmock said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I'm telling the truth." Sherlock continued smartly.

"What do you want?: Dimmock asked with some regret and resignation in his voice.

"I want every book from Lukis' apartment _and_ Van Coon's. " He declared with a grin.

"Their books?" Dimmock asked incredulously as he looked at John and I as if he was asking us if Sherlock was serious.

"Hes not kidding." I shrugged, he was an odd ball. The DI sighed as he stepped away to make some calls asking John to come with him. Sherlock came bounding back with a large grin as he pecked my forehead again. I paused a second before it occurred to me as to what just happened. It still sent butterflies down to my toes.

"We need to work on that." I frowned with confusion and sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"I don't agree but! Thats besides the point. I was hoping you might accompany me to a Chinese circus. They're in London for one night only." He said quickly as he handed me a piece of torn paper.

"I suppose so." I mumbled as I took in the date and tucked it back into his breast pocket. It was tomorrow night, It couldn't hurt, right?


	8. Chapter 8

I disappeared after the books arrived in their flat. I wasn't sticking around for all that and according to my lack of missed calls, I wasn't needed at home either. Instead of wandering around after dark, I decided to just head home instead. I was greeted by a single light on in his bedroom. I stood outside our house for the longest time before I really had the courage to actually walk in.

Even then I stood with my hand on the door knob, I could hear a car come to a stop behind me and looked back to see the glint of metal back at me. I waited second, trying to hear the cock of a gun click back or anything, but all I could hear was the person take one single step and wait. I turned slowly, halfway expecting to be shot by the same imbecile in the museum. If this was my time, so be it.

"You're on edge this evening, _Rose_." Mycrofts voice drifted towards me with some resigned force. I looked down to see it'd been the point of his umbrella that I'd seen.

"Its not often I'm preyed upon outside of my house at 10 PM, Mr Holmes." I replied softly, folding my arms across my chest, gently enough to not distress my arm. His suit was wrinkled but he didn't smell of his office, no. He'd been waiting in the car for when I'd come home. It was either that or he'd been working in his car now.

"Sherlock's rubbed off on you." He commented warily, balancing on the tip of his umbrella. I shrugged in response, not opening my mouth. I assumed this conversation had a point to it and I wasn't about to discuss Sherlock Holmes. The man had _me_ going back on myself. I heard him sigh loudly and take a step.

"My brother...hes not someone you'd want to plan a life with, Rosalyn." He shook his head under the lights, frowning.

"Nor am I." I retorted in a more reprimanding tone than I'd meant.

"I must disagree." Mycroft gazed at me for a second. I raised a brow as I switched legs to lean on. I wasn't responding.

"You really ought to see that its in your best interest to stay away from him." He sighed after a second.

"You really ought to see that its in _your_ best interest to stay away from here." I motioned to the house and the lit bedroom.

"Rosalyn..." He sighed, sounding a little exasperated. I merely raised a brow.

"Perhaps, in the future, you abstain from handing Sherlock your phone." Mycroft declared, leaning forwards with a pinched brow.

"Right. Thanks for the advice." I scoffed and stared back at him. We went silent for a second, he was expecting me to apologise I supposed. It wasn't happening.

"Your divorce has been signed by Mr Barsworth. You need only to sign yourself. The money and possessions will be divided equally amongst you." He intoned. I nodded as I heard papers being rustled from his coat pocket. I took the steps in one bound as I landed in-front of the frumpier Holmes. He paused, taking in my expression before leaning closer to me. I raised a brow as he didn't stop leaning in, forcing me to lean back.

"Myc-" I opened my mouth in confusion as he wrapped his fingers into my hair and pulled my towards him, our mouths meeting in the middle.

"Enough!" I pushed backwards as I regained control of my limbs, yelping when I jostled the stitches. They were achy. I glared at him through the pain, yanking my papers out of his hands and turned to walk back. I was angry as I ignored him calling my name and slammed the door behind me. The house was silent for a beat before I went into the kitchen, I always went here first when I came home.

"Have a _fun_ time out there?" A voice slurred behind me.

"U-um" I froze at the contact of his hand on my good shoulder. He was drunk. He was drunk and knew I was divorcing him and now I was _alone_ with him. Why was I so stupid sometimes?

"I bet you did, Rosalyn. Its great your fuck buddy got all the papers ready for ye." He spun me around roughly, still slurring. I stared into his bloodshot eyes with fear locking up my arms and legs. I didn't know what to do, all my bravado left me.

"Couldn't even wait, could you?" His fingers curled around my hurt arm like a snake digging it's way into my skin. Without thinking, I headbutted him. I, at 163 cms and only 55 kilos headbutted my angry, drunk ex husband. It quickly backfired as my forehead throbbed in waves of dizziness.

"You bitch." He fell back out of shock, hitting the Island counter with his back, grasping it for balance. His eyes locked on me as I made another quick decision to run, I'd gotten two or three steps away when he yanked my left leg out from under me. I landed on my elbows and stomach with a yelp as the pain hit me. Again, not my best plan.

"Stop it." My voice was meek, looking back at him. I could feel the tears prickle up in my eyes, now with one foot on my calf. His weight was pressing it to the ground and stopping me from getting up. I was scared now as the tears began to fall down my cheeks.

"Or what? You're going to call for your fucktoy?" He bit out, reeking of alcohol as his breath hit me.

"I'm going to have one last night of fun." He took his foot off my calf as I attempted to scramble away again, instead he straddled me as he rolled me onto my back.

"William! Stop it!" I could feel a hand clumsily mess with my sweater. I scratched at his arm, pulling my nails back. There was nothing down here I could use but my own limbs.

"Nononononon-" I essentially went into hysterics as I hit his chest and neck, trying to go for his wind wipe but he kept swaying. I wanted Sherlock here or John or literally anyone but him.

"FECK" I think I hit it because a second later, he froze and gasped. Then I felt a brick slice through my cheek, friction and knuckles forcing my head to the side and bouncing it off the tiled floor. The world spun as I laid there for a few minutes, he wasn't on top of me anymore but I was still crying. I heard a door slam as I curled into a ball, shaking with sobs.

An hour passed before I really calmed down. I didn't move from the floor, I was just staring at it blankly. There were some red speckles but nothing like it'd been at the museum. My cheeks were sticky and crusty at the same time. I stood warily, trying to not put pressure on my arm as I went to the downstairs bathroom.

My ponytail was limp looking now, farther down my head that I'd thought. My cheek was swollen but the cut was minor, it'd only bruise badly. I stared at myself for a few more seconds.

I'm done with crying. I'm done with it all. I refuse to cry anymore. I went upstairs and changed, locking the door and shoving my dresser to sit in front of it. I laid ontop of the covers and drifted to sleep, slowly. I would wound him next time. It wouldn't be his pride, it'd be his skin.

I awoke to the sound of banging on my bedroom door with a jump. It looked closer to the afternoon than morning outside, and I couldn't understand who would be banging on my door like this.

"Who is it?!" I yelled warily.

"Who do you think?!" I heard a scoff and a deep baritone voice come through. I paused a second before deciding it was Sherlock and shoved the dresser just out of the way enough to open the door slightly.

"What do you want?" I asked softly, looking around for a sign of William. I'd only really peeked with one eye in the crack I'd left open since waking up.

"Preferably to have you and I leave this house at some point. Can you open the door?" He deadpanned. I paused before nodding and shutting it to push the dresser the rest of the way back. He opened the door as I put my hand on the knob, coming around the corner easily. He froze as he stared at my face, stepping closer. I cringed as he put a finger lightly on top of the cut and forming bruise.

"He did this to you?" Sherlock came out in a whisper as I shrugged. I didn't really want to show weakness infront of Sherlock. I looked up after he'd gone unusually silent for a beat, he was glaring at my cheek. His eyes narrowed into slits as he tilted his head and shook it, muttering to himself.

"Are you quite alright?" I raised a brow at his expression as he nodded slowly, beginning to grin.

"Perfect. I believe we have a date to keep, come along now Rose." He left my side and went to the dresser, chucking clothes at me as he went.


	9. Chapter 9

"Is this your idea of a date?" I was reclining in Sherlock's chair again, my feet were dangling off the edge as I watched him lug crates of books around the room. I was enjoying watching him in his native habitat and it kept my mind off of the pain radiating down my shoulder and face right now. Really anything to do with Sherlock kept me occupied. He was a box of puzzles and I wanted to see what made him tick.

"I need to find the book before anything else." He replied, his back turned as he perused his own shelves. I raised a brow at that, watching his shoulders tense under the shirt's purple material. I could only guess this was to do with his code and his case.

"...a book that everyone would own." He was muttering to himself. I sighed and stood, shifting myself carefully through the stacks and stepped on a box that was on the ground to see over his head. Balancing with my hands on his shoulders, I looked through his shelves of books remembering them from the last time I'd been searching for information on him. It was an everlasting search with Sherlock Holmes. He didn't like to give much away about himself.

"What about the dictionary?" I asked curiously as I reached forwards for it and handed it down to him. I wasn't sure what code we were going off of exactly so I wasn't about to bother scanning it. I'm sure his memory could keep up anyways. He took the book and patted my hands as a non-verbal signal to move. I leaned back easily and watched him scamper off to search through the book at his desk.

Without much idea of what else to do, I started going through his books and stacking them up next to him on the desk for him to go through. I was focused on pulling out the more common ones but he seemed to have a very...specialised library.

He had books on STD's and the Plague but it wasn't like he had popular books that everyone read...well not unless everyone was interested in a serious epidemic in the 13th and 14th centuries _and_ a modern day disease. So I stepped off my plastic crate and opened the lid, going through the books inside. Jaysus. We'd be here all fucking night with the state these were in. They were carelessly tossed into the box, some were bent and crushed and some were just facing the wrong way up making me take them out and flip 'em over.

* * *

It had to be several hours and several dozen crates that we'd gone through before John came into the flat. "Still searching then?" He sounded light but tired. I couldn't see him through the crates. I was sitting on the floor behind a few boxes and stacks of books, just close enough to hand them to Sherlock but still be able to sit on the floor. I'd gotten lazy after the first two hours or so.

"Obviously." Sherlock sighed as he flipped through another book, it was a little more pop culture centered at this point. These _Harry Potter_ books were popular enough for me to have heard about them and have it all over the internet _and_ England so maybe it was possible they used it?

"Right, stupid question." John mumbled, his feet were heavy as he went across the floor. I had to assume he hadn't seen me since he hadn't said hello. A door creaked open then shut signalling he'd left the room. I shifted a little, pulling a new crate over to me and opening it to search through the titles. This would be so much easier if they'd packed all of the books with their spine facing up.

Another door creaked open and slammed shut, leading me to believe John was back. "I need to get some air. We're going out tonight." Sherlock declared as he sat another book down. It sounded like we were done for the night...maybe. Sherlock was a bit of a machine at times. I leaned back onto the set of crates behind me with a small sigh, it attracted Sherlock's attention. I could see the curiosity in the blue of his eyes as he glanced back at me through the gap in between crates.

"Maybe you ought to ask Rosalyn instead. Take her out for an actual date." John suggested oddly. I raised a brow at his cock-out as it occurred to me he wasn't interested in going out with Sherlock tonight.

"Nonsense. We'll all go out." Sherlock dismissed it, not realising that John obviously had plans. I almost started to snicker at the great detective's ignorance but held it back as John started to sigh.

"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John sounded a little proud as he said it. I had to guess he had a difficult time with women.

"What?" Sherlock sounded both exasperated and incredulous.

"So you finally plucked up the courage and asked 'er?" I popped up excitedly from my sitting position and tried to peek over the crates at John. I ended up having to step on another crate to see the short man.

" _Christ_ , have you been here the whole time? What happened to your face?" He looked taken aback, a hand over his heart. He looked nice for John's standards. A casual suit and button up, very professional but also a bit dated. I wasn't impressed.

"You look a bit like my grandfather, love. Is she 80?" I pursed my lips, waving my finger at him as I took in his outfit. A brown corduroy jacket covered up his blue striped button up. Ick. I was avoiding his other question, trying to drag attention to a possible insecurity he could have about his age or his looks. Quite a few people had them so I was really just praying he had one as well.

"I-its just where two people who like each other go out and have fun. Incredibly casual so I dressed casual. And she's not _80_. Shes probably...30. " He defended quickly, running his hands over his front. He was insecure about the choice now which meant I was successful. I felt a little smug as I leaned on the crate and looked back at him.

"That's what _I_ was suggesting. Right?" Sherlock retorted and looked back at me for back up. I shook my head and reached down, ruffling his curls. They felt soft against my fingers.

"No it wasn't ... at least I _hope_ not." John sounded wary as he replied. I retracted my hand and took a step down to push back the crates and stand out there with the other civilized folk.

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock sounded a bit miffed but I felt like he was just leading up to having him go to the circus with us. It was interesting to see the attachment he had to the ex-soldier as a companion.

"Er, cinema." John replied back as I started to pull crates back. He took a few steps forward and I found that he was helping me push the crates back. What a gentleman. More than could be said for Sherlock. I felt a grin come over my face as the idea struck me. I stretched on my toes with my hands on his shoulders and pecked his cheek.

"Thanks, love." I giggled as I stepped away from the doctor whose cheeks were already starting to colour. At least I could still have fun with one of the detectives, this one was less likely to learn what I was doing anyways.

"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock's words sounded a bit more harsh than usual but I figured he was just trying even harder to persuade John. It was obvious that John cared about what Sherlock thought was dull. Perhaps a bit more than he should considering it was now being used against him.

"Why don't you try this?" Sherlock's tone turned smooth again as he pulled the same piece of paper I'd stuck in his pocket at the museum out of his trousers and handed it to John. I wanted to say the circus was called the Yellow Dragon or something of the like.

"In London for one night only." Sherlock added with a bit of concealed urgency as John looked skeptically at it. He wasn't buying it automatically which seemed to have Sherlock worried he wouldn't bite.

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." He chuckled, handing it back easily. Sherlock let out a bit of air forcefully from his nostrils in exasperation as he looked to me for help. I sighed lightly as I stepped up.

"I'd do it. Sounds exciting enough, pretty original." I supplied easily, looking back to John. His eyes were interested as he looked over my face. I could tell his instincts as a medical man were part of it as he scanned my arm and cheek.

"Is that so?" He looked a little worried as his brows furrowed. I nodded, looking back to Sherlock.

"See? Even Rose think's its a fine idea." He replied smoothly, looking a little pleased. He had to have assumed that John had taken the bait at this point. I guessed that this whole charade of a date was to drag John and I along to investigate the circus. It was suspicious, being in London for one night only. China to England was a long trip and difficult to get for only a single night's performance.

"We'll see." John sighed, putting a hand in his pocket as he checked his watch. He had to be picking her up soon then otherwise I wasn't sure why he'd check his watch.

"I'd best be off. Cheers." He nodded to me, hesitant as he turned and headed out the door and down the stairs.

I looked back to Sherlock who took out his phone, tapping in a number and holding it to his ear when the door closed behind John. I figured he was reserving the ticket's then, especially when he started to talk about four for Holmes. I pushed the books off of his leather chair and sat down in it, crossing my legs and waiting as he spoke on the phone.

He pulled it away, hitting the button before sitting in front of me and steeping his hands together in front of his face. "You're that sure he'll even bother?" I raised a brow as I checked him over. He looked well-rested but excitement showed in his eyes as they scanned me. He was wearing a different shirt than the last time I'd seen him signalling he'd changed and showered since then. It was probably one of my favourites on him. Purple suited his pale skin.

"Easily. He's convinced now that you, a female whose slept with a few males, encouraged the idea." He nodded, his eyes were skipping around my own face and body telling me he was analysing me at the same time.

"Whats a few blokes got to do with his date then? John's straight as they come, Shirley." I raised a brow with a smirk coming over my face. I was playing with him again but this time I was questioning his process.

"You're desirable. If it's enticed you, it would easily excite whatever bland woman he's got in mind." He declared easily, waving his hand at the air. I was flattered, sadly. I didn't enjoy him being able to compliment me and actually feeling compliment when he did so. He was more difficult than most men. He was innocent but also entirely in control and aware most of the time. He'd already learned my tricks to get whatever I wanted out of man so now I'd have to actually work to confuse him again.

"Someone's jealous." I snorted a bit, shaking my head at him. My phone buzzed in my jean's pocket, dragging my attention from the man in front of me.

"Jealousy was not a concept I was familiar with until I came upon you." He postulated dryly. I glanced at him, his eyes were drawn to the silver flip phone in my hand.

**Did he do that to you?**

**MH**

I raised a brow at the message. I supposed he'd finally started stalking me again and saw my face somehow. I wasn't interested in having a car wait outside Baker street again so I _was_ going to reply but I wasn't going to be helpful in the least...or maybe I should be. If the divorce went through I might need a place to spend the night or a few days.

**Not to worry, darling. William just gave me a good scratch.**

**RG**

I felt that was pretty kind of me. I wasn't avoiding the question and I was trying to quell his worries. That was something people did when they didn't want the other to worry out of affection right? I'm pretty sure it was. I've not ever been wrong when judging these things.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock apparently had thought of the circus when he was tossing clothes at me this afternoon because I was suddenly aware that we'd most likely snoop around back stage as we walked up to the building. Well that was if he'd found anything worth snooping about for. I was wearing black jeans and a loose black sweater. He offered me his scarf but I declined having thought ahead and took out my own scarf from my jacket pocket. It'd been too sunny earlier for it but at night it was perfect.

"No. No, I don't think so. We only booked two." John's ugly jacket was facing Sherlock and I as he lead me up the stairs. I'd started to notice he favoured walking along my injured side, pushing past people who were close by without so much as an excuse me. I found it adorable that he hung around that side but seemed uninterested in taking my hand which I was a little grateful for. I wasn't one to hold anyone's hand unless it was a wee child.

"And then I phoned back and got one for myself and Rosalyn as well. " Sherlock spoke up as we got to the top of the stairs, disappearing from my side to stand in front of the ticket booth. I came up behind John and put a hand over his shoulder to lean up to his ear.

"He can't help himself, love." I murmured into his ear. John looked back at me with disbelief as he realised I was in on it the whole time. I felt a small smile crop up on the side of my face at his expression and shrugged my apology.

 _"_ I'm Sherlock." Sherlock stuck his hand out roughly for her to shake while his eyes flickered towards me. She looked nervously at John, her eyes lingered on my hand then went back to Sherlocks. I recognised the tightening of her shoulders and narrowing of her eyes and took a step back from John, no way in hell I was getting blamed for John's shit date. That was Sherlock's honour.

"Er, hi. Sarah." She shook his hand uneasily, looking back at John for some sort of assistance. I guess he hadn't explained to her who we were or how he even got the tickets. Couldn't blame him since he'd lost his card to a chip-and-pin machine at the market. John was in a complicated situation to say the least.

"Hello." He gave her a pinched fake smile then turned and leave. John chased after him leaving this Sarah alone with me. Great. Just what I wanted.

"Rosalyn." I offered her a small smile as I checked over her. She was dressed nicely for this, had a bit of make up and it seemed heavier than usual. Her skin didn't have that oddly waxy look to it signaling she didn't often wear make up. She was looking forward to it. She liked John.

"Oh, uh it's nice to meet you." She took a step closer and I was hit with a wave of antiseptic right in the nose, he had to have met her at the clinic. She had to be a doctor or the secretary. Her hands were too smooth looking to be the cleaner.

"I take it you're Sarah from the clinic?" I tilted my head, waiting to see if she'd check over my arm and face like John always did. I was also trying to get on her good side, like John spoke highly of her all the time. She obviously liked him enough to deal with Sherlock.

"Has he talked about me?" She glanced at my arm and cheek a second then asked shyly,y picking up a piece of her hair as she looked back at John and Sherlock on the stairs.

"Oh all the time. He loves working with you." I smiled, taking the chance that she was a doctor or at least in training to become one. She let out a little giggle that made me want to smile more but it hurt to do so.

"Mind if I ask something personal, Rosalyn?" She looked back at me, more serious now. I nodded slowly, trying to gauge what the hell she'd want to ask that was so serious when she was just a giggling school girl a second ago.

"Is...what I mean to say is that...well." She looked frustrated as she tried to formulate the sentence. It was something she wasn't comfortable asking. Personal. But what could she ask me that would be that personal? She leaned closer, looking at me conspiratorially. "Are they a couple or something?" She whispered, waving a hand towards Sherlock and John. OH.

"Well I do know that John's straight. Sherlock's been single nearly all his life, so who knows with him, really? He might be a lady for all I know." I shrugged, starting to move towards them and go up the stairs. She let out a snort and followed behind me looking more easy-going now. I'd gained her confidence somehow but I wasn't sure which bit really did it. It'd easily take further analysis.

" ... while I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" John was frustrated as he yelled. Sherlock just looked like he was having a bit of fun. I cleared my throat loudly, attracting John's attention towards Sarah who was right behind him.

"Heyyy. Ready?" He looked ashamed as he rubbed the back of his neck and motioned for her to go ahead.

I continued past them, looping my good arm with Sherlock's and pulling him along. He'd have to learn some sort of social boundaries somehow. "You can't play with him like that." I scolded as we walked into a larger circular room with the middle being roped off.

"Thats an odd statement coming from you of all people." His voice was low as he cut his eyes towards mine.

"I've got experience. Theres no reason for you to disrupt his date outside of jealousy." I rolled my eyes and continued on with my admonishment.

"You're looking but you're not _observing_. You've got not reason to tease me outside of curiosity." He retorted quietly as he started looking around the room, I imagined he was looking for any possible traps or tips that this was definitely the smugglers we wanted. It sounded like he was doing it out of curiosity, to see how far he could push John. I felt like he'd regret it in the time to come.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not, Shirley." I smirked as I looked back at the stage, a woman dressed in traditional looking wear came out. Her face was painted white with pink to outline her nose and cheeks and charcoal along her lids.

"Avoiding the questions again, Rose?" I felt his breath drift across my exposed neck and turned ever so slightly to look at him.

"Would it bother you if I were?" I raised a brow. His face was much closer than I thought possible for the human bot that was Sherlock Holmes. I felt a hand slip down to lay flat against my stomach with quite a bit of surprise. Enough to warm my cheeks.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He smirked against my good cheek. So far I'd seen that he enjoyed his space tremendously and he wasn't fond of human contact unless it had a significant purpose. This had no purpose out of possibly exciting me and I was pretty damn sure the man was asexual or just totally shut down in his bits and pieces. It bothered me that I didn't know _why_ he was doing this. He always had a purpose.

"You said circus. This is _not_ a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is _... art_. " John whispered heatedly back to Sherlock with a bit of distaste. He didn't enjoy art work obviously but it seemed she did. She was interested in the room and the stage.

"This is not their day job. " Sherlock whispered back plainly.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're _not_ a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers. " John sounded annoyed as he turned back to glare at Sherlock.

"Enough. Focus on your lay, John." I raised a brow as John's cheeks turned pink and he seemed to want to say something else but stopped himself. He'd had his little rant apparently. It was all the same to me, I'd snap him in half if he tried to argue with me on that.

The performance began with someone tapping out a rhythm on a drum of some kind. John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock with annoyance, like he was trying to show us how stupid this was Sherlock just quirked an eyebrow at him. The ornately costumed Chinese woman walked into the centre of the circle and looked imperiously out at us before raising her hand in the air. The drummer finished off his riff as she started to walk towards a bulky looking thing that had been covered up.

She pulled it back to reveal an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. She picked up a long thick wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a vicious metal point at the other and showed it to the audience to alleviate foul play before she slid it into place in the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulled a single small white feather from her headdress and again showed it to the audience.

On the rear of the crossbow was a small metal cup that she gently dropped the feather into. Instantly the arrow was released and whizzed across the room, forcing my head to whip around to follow it with my eyes as it lodged into the board across the room. I felt Sherlock's hand tighten, pulling me closer as the arrow sped across which caused a smirk to drift across my face. The robot could be startled. Sarah turned to John and laughed as she put her hand dramatically over her heart.

Instrumental music began, as we applauded and a new character entered the circle. My eyes scattered across his frame, bulky. Too bulky to be able to swing up like I'd seen in the museum. He was wearing chain-mail and an ornate head mask. He bent his arms into his chest as two men come over and started to attach heavy chains and straps to him. There were strapping his folded arms in front of him and backed him up against the board, chaining him too it. My eyes drifted across to the arrow as it dawned on me what they were doing.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock spoke softly but I wasn't sure if it was to me or to John. He was still just as close to me as before but I began to move a little to the side. I wasn't all that fond of the formidable looking weapon on the other side of the room.

"Hmm?" John looked distractedly back at us. His eyes widened a tad as he took in Sherlock's proximity to me, his eyes were jumping from Sherlock's hand back to my face again.

"The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires." Sherlock explained smugly. He loved showing off his knowledge to John. I think it made him feel a little better that nearly everyone hated him in his life.

The woman turned and loaded another arrow into the crossbow while the men attached more padlocks and chains, pulling a chain tight. It yanked the warrior's head back against the board with a solid thud making him cry out. My lips started to tighten as I remember the feeling of my own head bouncing of the kitchen floor. The men looped the remaining chains through the solid rings attached to the board, securing the warrior entirely, he cried out again as they took a step away.

I turned my head away from it, looking at Sherlock's clothed shoulder as he stood next to me. The music began to build up in intensity and cymbals crashed unexpectedly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sarah jump and clutch at John's arm. She was definitely trying for him to reach towards her or _something_ but John seemed more content to fum over Sherlock's manipulations.

I looked back to the centre as Sarah apologised, "Oh, Gawd! I'm sorry!" She giggled, wrapping her hands around one of his arms. I don't think I liked this show very much anymore. In fact I was quite done with it. I watched with tight lips as the woman held up a small knife, looking back to a small sandbag that was hanging down.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock was the running commentary man, apparently. Wonderful.

"Hush." I whispered reaching up to quiet him, he caught my hand easily bringing it back down to my side.

The woman did just what Sherlock predicted – she reached up to the small sandbag hanging on a long cable and stabbed the knife into the bottom of the sack. Sand began to pour out, as the warrior repeatedly cried out of effort as he tugs at his chains. I didn't like it at all.

"Show time." I turned my head away again as Sherlock whispered into my ear. He pulled me away easily out into the hallway, I was happy to follow him out of there. Everyone's attention was still on the warrior as he cried out over and over again. We ran down a deserted hallway and up a small set of stairs. I could hear clapping and a bit of light peeking through what appeared to be curtains. We had to be on the stage, it was right behind the show and there were mirrors and costumes everywhere. It was messily thrown across the room like they'd been in a hurry.

"What are we looking for?" I whispered as I took a few hesitant steps into the room, Sherlock was in front of me looking around. I could just see his hair bouncing as he turned his head 'round.

"Michigan; hardcore propellant. Of the Zinc variety." He whispered back, kneeling down to look under a makeup table. I nodded to myself as my brain's wheels began to turn and turn. I walked past him, looking around at the room. Where would I keep cans of yellow spray paint? It'd be bright. Would I want it to attract attention? No. So I would keep it covered...

I knelt down and slid open a drawer, nothing but brushes and lipsticks greeted me. So maybe I'd want to keep it all together. A sack of some kind. It'd be big if this was the same thing used to write the characters that Sherlock and John were trying to get the girl to translate in the museum. They'd need a steady supply. I brushed past a costume standing alone in the corner.

"Well, well." Sherlock muttered behind me. I turned and looked back at him as he peeked through the curtains.

"We have our spider." He looked back at me, still holding up the curtain. I felt a bit of relief that he was out there while we weren't, I didn't fancy running into him while we were sneaking around. A door slammed nearby pushing us both into action as I ducked under a clothing stand, Sherlock was too tall to just duck and ended up having to move the clothes. I could just see through the clothes as he pulled them back into place and crouched. Sometimes it paid off to be this short. Though my heart beat felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I hadn't been this sneaky since my time in Uni.

The woman stomped in and picked up her mobile, looking at it for a second. Sherlock rustled the clothes hangers, creating noise. I cut him a dirty look as he quickly crouched down, looking back at me with a tinge of annoyance. He should have known better, honestly. He looked back down to the floor as another door closed telling me that she'd most likely left.

He pushed open a black bag on the ground with his foot, revealing the cans of paint."Found you." He grinned back up at me as he sang it. I rolled my eyes, moving to duck back down and out of the clothing rack. These all smelled funny. Like the costume stores around Halloween.

He followed behind me, shaking the can and going closer to the mirror. I sighed and looked back at him, putting a hand on my hip. I wanted to leave before another one of the Chinese circus folk/smugglers came 'round again. He shook it some more and spray a single line across one. I watched his face turn into one of delight but paused, something was moving. I wasn't sure what. He started to frown as well, turning around and looking behind him at the warrior costume.

"Shit." I mumbled as I realised the costume now had someone in it. We just couldn't have one good day, could we? Just _one_ bloody day where there wasn't someone attacking us. Fucking hell, he's got a sword too.

The man charged forwards, lashing out at Sherlock with the large decorated knife. I felt my heart slip up to my throat as Sherlock duck backwards and tried to avoid each blow as the warrior just continued to charge. Sherlock ducked and swayed, spraying him in the eyes with the paint as he stumbled back from the warrior. I needed to do something but first I needed to take a step back. This was the situation I was in. Nothing else to say about it except how to remedy it.

I watched as Sherlock blocked with the spray can and pushed the warrior back. The man seemed to almost ignore me as he hopped up from the ground with a stupidly cool trick and started swinging for Sherlock again. With little else to do, my eyes darted across the room for something to hit him with and choose one of the chairs. I picked it up, ignoring the stings running down my arm as I jostled them and swung for his back. I saw Sherlock go flying out of the curtains right as the chair started to bend, hitting the warrior's back with force I didn't know I had.

He snarled something at me as he stumbled and fell forwards, off the stage. I was breathing deeply as I went to hop off the stage to go pick up Sherlock off the floor while the other guy was still down. Apparently he wasn't down for that long because as soon as I got one step ahead of him, he yanked my feet up, making me land hard on my front with a yelp of pain.

Okay. _Now_ he's just being a pest. I rolled to my front as he raised his foot back to swing it into my face when John pushed him back. I might have been a little pissed off when I stumbled to my feet shakily. I watched him Shove John back onto his arse and swing my leg back like I was about to kick a football across the field and let it fly forwards into his crotch.

"Don't you fucking hit me, you tit." I grunted as he immediately bent at the waist like clockwork as he grasped his knob, groaning out of pain.

I drove my knee up right into his nose, his mask seemed to cover up a bit of the blow but I heard a crunch and hoped to god it was his fucking nose. I felt little stabs of pain travel up my thigh but the overwhelming sense of victory pushed it to the back of my mind. That was a move my da had taught me years and years ago. The other was kick and keep kicking until he fell, felt like this was more appropriate given the circumstance. I was taking in deep breaths, heaving if you will.

"Come on!" Sherlock sounded just as breathless as me but more excited as he got off his lazy arse and hobbled towards the exit.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All trancripts come from Arianedevere on livejournal! Bless her.   
> http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/44496.html#cutid1

I followed behind him as we ended up in the New Scotland Yard. I waited with Sarah, making idle conversation until John and Sherlock back out. Neither looked very happy as Sherlock stalked across, the grass. She looked at me and I shrugged in return. I had a feeling that their talk with the idiot DI didn't go very well.

Currently I was sat back in Sherlock's chair at the desk, poking through his crap. The flat had only gotten messier as more crates were shifted and their content's emptied. He was looking through all of the pictures on his wall above the mantel, mumbling to himself. _John was also gazing at the pictures while Sarah hovered nearby, forgotten by the pair of them. I looked over my shoulder as Sherlock ran his fingers over the main picture of the painted brick wall._

"Somewhere in this message it _must_ tell us." Sherlock looked frustrated as he pulled it off the wall and stared at it longer. I turned back to the desk, poking through evidence piles and bags. I could tell where John had written down the first three word's then gave up on the rest, various phrases went down the page.

 _Three Tons More_  
Mark Moon Made  
Use not peanuts

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you lot to it." Sarah's voice drifted back, I looked back over my shoulder at her standing awkwardly in the middle of the chaos and mess next to John.

"No, no, you don't have to go ..." He looked round to Sherlock as he contradicted John simultaneously "Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." Sherlock's deep voice was clear through John's pause. "... does she? You can stay." The boys looked back at each as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock." I warned him lowly, his eyes cut back to mine as he seemed to sigh and looked back to the wall of pictures.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John continued pleasantly like his flatmate hadn't just tried to block him. I looked back to the desk, flipping through their crime scene photos for something we'd missed in the moment. A lot had happened in little time as things did when they were serious.

"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" Sarah's voice cut through the silence as I looked back at her then at John. Sherlock was sighing and mumbling to himself, I wasn't sure why he disliked her so much but it kept backing up my theory of him being jealous.

"Right." John seemed to sigh as well, but more embarrassed as he went to the kitchen. I snorted as I looked back, opening crime scene bags. He'd forgotten his manners and hadn't offered her a drink or anything. Tsktsktsk.

I flipped over the picture of the girl in the museum's body. It wasn't something I was all that interested in. I had the brick wall picture in my hand when I felt something kick the base of my chair. I ignored it at first, opening the bag and glancing at the page. She'd began to translate it. I felt a grin spread with excitement until I felt another kick to the back of the chair.

"Move." I raised a brow at the humourless baritone voice behind me. He was exasperated with the girl which meant I could mess with him now that he was just annoyed. He barely displayed emotions so when he had one, I was so totally going to abuse it.

"And if I don't?" I turned smoothly in the chair, looking back at Sherlock. Sarah obviously felt out of place, glancing between us and the board of pictures with her hands in the pockets. I heard some banging around and assumed John was in the kitchen, looking for food for her.

"Rose..." His voice was practically a growl as he warned me. I sighed and stood, touchy touchy.

He collapsed back into the chair, focused on comparing the picture in his hands with the others. I fought to keep a grin off of my face as I slid over his back and shoulders, laying my head near his ear and my arms down his front. I didn't get a reaction as he seemed to just keep going through pictures, comparing them before he tossed them to the side. It was time to up the game.

I blew a bit of air into his ear and felt nothing change in his motions so I leaned a little closer, pressing my lips gently to the side of his neck. I watched with some mirth as he paused, his eyes drifted back to mine when I nipped at his neck softly.

"What are they doing?" I heard a soft, feminine, whisper from the other side of the room. I took a step back after I teased, Sherlock turned in his chair entirely to face me. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were hooded as he looked me up and down. It was almost a little sexy and I had to scold myself for thinking it right after.

"Its a...thing they do. It's not too bad." John whispered back, it sounded like they were in the kitchen. I raised a brow, smirking back at him as he leaned forwards, wrapping his hands around my hips. His lap was now open as he pulled me roughly down into it. I felt something hard press against my arse as he turned back towards the desk, reaching around me. He was...aroused? Sherlock had a cock that was actually alive? When did _that_ happen?

"O-Right. Okay. That one's new." John made a noise of surprise as he continued to whisper to Sarah. I wonder if they realised how loud they were or if they thought we were ignorant to their gossiping in literally the next room over.

"You're going to want to take a look at this." I felt a snort come on as I waved the brick wall page in his face. Sherlock caught it quickly, looking at the first two characters.

"John! Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" Sherlock was suddenly excited, the hard spot faded away quickly as he waved the piece of paper. I pulled away to stand up right as Sherlock popped up with a grin, he pulled my face close and kissed me hard against the lips and darted off to go tell John.

I pursed my lips, why was he now initiating it? I'm going to have to step quicker now. Its no fun if he _enjoys_ it. Or did he just think that was a common greeting? Things like that were hard to tell with Sherlock, he was innocent when he wanted to be, coy even. I'd have to search for ques.

"NINE," "MILL." Sherlock read out rather loudly as he stood next to John.

"I didn't know you two were involved." Sarah went around them and came to stand next to me, giving me an awkward smile as she tried to make conversation.

"Does that mean 'millions'? " John queried out loud as he squinted at it.

"We're not." I shook my head at her quickly. Not in a million years. Getting involved with someone like Sherlock meant I'd be dedicating whatever was left of my life to catering to him and his job. His job alone would cut my life expectancy in half, that much was obvious.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." She trailed off even more awkward sounding now. It was almost a little funny to watch her so uncomfortable.

"Nine million quid. For what? " Sherlock pursed his lips, going over to where he'd dumped the coat and scarf in his hurry to get inside.

"We need to know the end of this sentence." Sherlock declared as he went out the open door.

"Where are you going?" John yelled down the stairs to him as we watched Sherlock disappear from the flat.

"To the museum; to the restoration room." Sherlock came back up the stairs with a bit of bounce to his step.

"Oh, we must have been staring right at it!" He grimaced as he let out a burst of air in exasperation. I was little amused by his ministrations as he shifted the coat around him, pulling the scarf down his neck.

"At-at what? " John was a little taken aback with his companion. I shifted legs to stand on as I sighed. I sure as hell wasn't going back there just yet.

"The _book_ , John. The _book_ – the key to cracking the cipher! " He brandished the photo at John with urgency.

"Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk. " Sherlock turned and left quickly, his feet popping off the stairs in rapid succession after another. A slam of the front door signaled he was out and gone.

"Well. Um. Shall we just get take out?" John suggested after a moment of silence. I shrugged, turning to push crates out of my way to watch telly. I shoved books out of Sherlock's leather chair again and sat down, flipping through the channels while John and Sarah spoke in the kitchen. I sure as hell wasn't about to go home at this rate. With my luck it wouldn't just be a bruise to the cheek, it'd be a broken arm or a broken leg.

"Rosalyn, what are you having?" John called from the kitchen, I looked up from the telly and shrugged.

"I don't particularly care, love. Get me another of whatever you're having." I winked from my place amongst the crates. He seemed to turn the same little shade of pink as I giggled and went back to watching _The Personal Bests of Monty Python_ on Sky Arts. I loved this channel most of the time.

I looked away from the screen to spot one of the _Harry Potter_ books and leaned forwards, grabbing it. I started to read through it for a little while, distracting myself from the pain that was beginning to take root in my knee and face and arm. I'm in a piss poor state.

"John?" Sarah called from the kitchen. I perked my head up hearing heavy feet fall on the stairs. John didn't walk like that, at all. I turned my head and looked right as something came across and smack Sarah, she fell to the floor like a heap of bricks.

"You've got to be shitting me." I mumbled as the feeling of actual fear washed over my chest. It looked to be the bloke whose nose I'd smalled into my knee cap earlier, making me hop up quickly. He yelled something as another masked man without the swollen nose came around and picked her up, going down the stairs. It was a one on one at the moment but I was cornered and outnumbered.

"Where is it!?" He growled at me. I raised a brow, not really appreciating his demanding tone right now. I'd had a shit day and I'd had a shit day yesterday _and_ the day before that.

"Which 'it'?" I bit out scathingly, tilting my head. Watching him come a little closer, I was starting to feel my heart beat kick up again. I was looking for something to hurt him, something that was within reach for me.

"The treasure." He looked just as angry as I felt right now.

"Beats me." I sighed and merely shrugged. I wasn't sure how I reacted fast enough to throw the tower of crates onto him when he darted forwards, trying to snatch my arm. I was wary of the hand I couldn't see. It looked like he was carrying a police baton or something black along those lines.

He yelled something from under the boxes as I launched myself over them to get to the desk. Probably should have aimed for the kitchen and jumped out the window or something but it was quick second decision that I really hadn't thought through. I heard another set of feet come running up the stairs and hesitated as another man came in, he was a little bigger than the other guy but probably only half as angry.

"Seriously?" I gasped incredulously as he darted forwards and I went back. I felt the desk behind me as he just narrowly missed my head with his little baton thing. I was reaching for anything as he came closer and it seemed I'd grabbed an uncovered pen because that's what I stabbed into this bloke's shoulder.

It took quite a bit of force and really only served to piss him off and exhaust me. I was little shocked I'd even done it, staring at it with wide eyes and my hands on his chest. I'd hesitated a second too long and we both knew it. I looked back up to meet his eyes as I heard a snap and felt the world go black.


	12. Chapter 12

The world felt hazy and my head hurt. It was throbbing. I blinked a few times, turning my face away from the fire I was next too and spotted Sarah's fearful face looking back at me. She looked absolutely terrified. I felt my hackles raise as I realised I was bound behind my back to the chair and I had a piece of cloth over my mouth. Someone was talking.

"...Mr Holmes." Female. Not English or American. I looked quickly to the side but only found John. Sherlock wasn't here. What the hell were they _taking_?

"I ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John replied hesitantly.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." There was a woman standing in front of him, reaching into his jacket. She had short black hair, asian. Maybe Chinese. Most likely from the smuggler group. I logged the information in the back of my head.

I raised a brow, if they wanted money they could have taken it when we were out. What did she want? I looked behind her to see the larger guy with a now purple looking nose, and the thinner one next to him had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. I felt a bit of pride come over me, _take that you gits_.

She pulled out his wallet, opening it and going through the flaps. "Debit card, name of S. Holmes." She looked back to him to see if he'd try to contradict the evidence. I felt my head hang as I realised he'd accumulated objects of Sherlock's. There had to be a picture ID in there somewhere.

"Yes; that's not actually mine. He lent that to me." John sighed as I picked my head back up. I started to try and talk through the wraps to communicate it all. It came out a garbled mess but it caught her attention. She stared at me as I stared back until she said something that was too fast for me to catch. I had a grasp on the standard Mandarin but it wasn't that great of one.

The big one came over me, I was expecting him to undo the wraps but instead he slapped me.

Hard.

"Hey! Don't hit her!" John's voice was desperate but heated as he called over.

There was a bit of anger behind that slap, it forced my head to the side and sent waves of pain and shock over my core. I'm going to get him. When I figure out a way out of these bonds, and I will, I'm going to kick him so hard his fucking nards would come out of his throat.

He looked pleased as I glowered at him. "Yeah, he gave me that cheque to look after." John was sighing even more now as I realised she had to be looking at one from Wilkes. Now there was a insufferable arse.

"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes." She continued down the line, looking back to John as the big one marched back over to stand behind her.

"Yes, okay...I realise what this looks like, but I'm not him." John tried to talk to her again. I was taking a step back. It's time to get out of these ropes. Now then, how tight is the knot? Pretty bloody tight. Alright. Well is it wiggly? Oh it is. Someone didn't realise I had little fingers. I tuned back in as I realised it could be suspicious if I blanked out on the scene.

"...Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" She looked amused with John's panic and the gun in his face. I felt my breath catch but pushed it away. They wouldn't kill him just yet if they thought he was Sherlock.

"It tells you that they're not really trying. " She smiled daintily as she turned and slid in a clip of actual bullets, cocked it and point it at John's head again. They needed something, right? They needed 'Sherlock' to _find_ something. They couldn't find it themselves and if they killed him it would take twice as much work. I started to wedge my finger into the knot, trying to pull it up some to give me room to slip out of the loops. It just required me to stretch back a little more and right now everything hurt.

"Not blank bullets now." I almost wanted to roll my eyes and tell her it was empty before if she was going to just slid in a row of bullets but I kinda had a clothe tied across my face. Instead I focused on actually loosening the knot with my pinky and thumb. It seemed they'd double knotted it. Shit.

I looked back up as she looked sternly down at John, "Do you have it? " She raised a drawn-in eyebrow as she waited for him to answer. What was the it? What would Chinese Smuggler's need that was an 'It'?

"Do I have what?" John looked terrified _and_ exasperated as he looked back up at her and the pistol in his face.

"The treasure." She looked impatient as John continued to stare at her. I felt the knots begin to loose as my pinky kept wiggling through them. This had to work but even if it did, how would I undo the one thats were keeping my feet in place?

"I don't know what you're talking about." John groaned. I felt he had a problem with people holding a gun that close to his face, I suppose it made sense with his military career.

"I would prefer to make certain." I was staring at John and the black haired woman but I wasn't focused until she turned around. I froze my ministrations as she turned to me.

"Everything in the West has its price; and the price for _her_ life...information." She smiled at me, it was fake. I felt panic blossom through my chest as the big one came over to pick up my chair and take me to the chopping block.

"I think it's pretty fair. She broke his nose and hurt him with a pen." She motioned first to the big one then to the other who looked a bit victorious as I was moved.

"Normally I would have used your pretty companion but...a price is a price. Quite the barbarian for an English girl." She smirked as I began to struggle against him taking me there. I was rocking my body back and forth and thought about drooling on him as he just threw me over his shoulder.

He sat me down roughly, the chair creaked as he did. I was hoping he'd break it and give me time to knock his damn teeth out. Instead he stepped away and I was met with the tip of the crossbow, I didn't even like. Right. They wouldn't kill him...but they'd definitely kill me. I was baggage. Dangerous baggage at that apparently.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr Holmes, have been searching." She was trying to interrogate John again.

I looked back from the tip of the weapon and searched my mind for what to do. I could tip myself over. Buy time. It'd hurt, could dislocate something if I landed hard enough but it'd still buy time. They'd have to sit me back up and replace the arrow if I timed it just right...Or they could shoot me. It was entirely possible I'd get shot.

"Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You _have_ to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for." John was begging her at this point and I almost felt pity for him. He had a good heart. Cared about everyone around him, he was gullible like that. It was a weak spot that this women knew about and was currently using it.

"I need a volunteer from the audience!" She smirked as she turned and started walking towards me. **Great**. She was theatrical. Couldn't she just kill me and take it seriously? Honestly. The nerve of some people.

"No, please. _Please_." John's begging rang out through the cave. It looked like an old train tunnel. No windows. Christ, they really didn't want me escaping.

"Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely." She came to a stop and pulled out a knife.

I followed her line of sight and realised there was a sandbag being suspended by a pulley system. She was recreating the stunt. Great. She stared back at me with a smile, I just glared back at her. I wasn't about to cry or scream for her entertainment. I was only a bartering token right now and we both knew it. She raised a brow at my expression and stabbed the knife into the bag, sand began to pour out.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty _dog_ in a death-defying act." She walked back to her companions and pulled something from behind them. Well that was just plain  _rude_. I glanced at the sand bag and weight and tried to gauge at which point I needed to rock enough to fall. This was going to hurt. A lot.

"Please!" John was  _still_   begging on my account. I was flattered but I was also a little annoyed. If it was my time to go, I'd go with some dignity. Thanks, very much. 

She walked back over and placed a black origami lotus flower in my lap. "You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." She spoke with mock sympathy that boiled my blood. I swung my head, flinging a bit of spit at her. She touched her cheek and looked at my marksmanship with fury erupting over her face.

" _I_ _'m not Sherlock Holmes!_ " John was frantic now, genuinely yelling as she stalked back to the bag and stabbed another hole in it causing sand to pour out like a heavy waterfall now. Vindictive. Easy to anger. Both traits were flaws. I had both of them but damn did I feel like I did a better job with them.

"I don't believe you." She hissed at John as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was angry still. I glanced back at the bag as it went past the weight quickly and began to try and push off the ground with my toes to swing myself until I toppled over. I wanted to try and buy the most time I possibly could. It was risky, waiting until it was close to firing, but I was definitely taking the risk.

"You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him" I tilted my head at the baritone voice echoing off the walls as I finally lost my balance and fell.

Immediately pain flooded up my arm and I heard the growl of the big guy next to me. God feckin' damn it. I thought he was just going to tilt me back up again but instead he took off towards Sherlock. Lucky break, I'd say. I looked up from my place on the ground as the arrow shot across into the board behind me. Thank fucking god. It wasn't my time tonight.

"How would _you_ describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" His words had a little bit of a K click on the end of them but all I wanted to do with beat him over the backside of his head, senseless.

" _Late_? You know Rosalyn almost got _skewered_?" John called out tetchily. I wanted to yell out "YEAH.", but I still had the issue with rolling to my front to somehow get off my arm. It felt like it was about to pop of  with my full weight _and_ a chair on it.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second." Sherlock called out from the dark as she cocked the pistol at his general area.

"Well?" She sounded impatient but I could see the worry behind the crinkles near her eyes. The second one started to creep away from me, towards Sherlock's echos.

"Well..." Sherlock continued, pausing as I heard a grunt and a bang of metal against rock. "... the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit _anyone_. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit _you._ " He finished his warning but he sounded closer now. I felt like their attention was totally on him at the moment so I wobbled my self up to my knees by pushing off against the ground with my elbow. Thank god I hadn't landed on the stitches arm.

Suddenly I heard a metal bang and looked up quickly, expecting to see that she'd shot him. Instead I just saw her jumping back, it sounded like he was still well. I felt something touching my hands, messing with the knot I'd begun to loosen, and spun my head around to see Sherlock. It's about bloody time. I saw movement and tried to motion with my head that he was about to get choked.

It didn't seem to work as the skinnier one wrapped a red scarf around his throat and yanked, pulling him away from me. It was all the same to me at this point, I could wriggle my hands out of the loops. I rubbed my wrists and set to working on undoing my feet. I could hear Sherlock gasping from behind me but focused on undoing the knots.

Leftie was free and finally so was rightie. I crawled away from the chair and stood shakily, I thought about undoing John's knots but decided I'd stop Sherlock from choking to death first. My idea of doing this was to pick up the chair I'd been tied too and slam it back over his head. It bounced a little before splintering apart over his forehead. He stared at me for maybe a second before he went down.

"Where is he?" I bellowed into the tunnel as I started searching for the bigger one. I was about to bitch slap 'im with a chair leg and I hope he got a bunch of nasty splinters in his cheek. 

"Where is _who_?" Sherlock was gasping as he pulled the red scarf looking thing off of his neck, following behind me.

"It's all right." It was a half-hearted comforting sort of phrase telling me he went to undo Sarah's bonds. I knew when he'd taken the mouth piece out because she immediately burst out crying. She was anguished and terrified when she just continued to cry. I was distracted by my search. 

"The big one. I'm going to bitch slap 'im." I hissed as I stalked forwards, glancing into the dark tunnel. I couldn't see him. Damn it. He got away.

"You're gonna be all right. It's over now. It's over." Sherlock continued to try and comfort her. I looked back, angry and miffed at the same time that I wouldn't get to shove his nards up his throat anymore. I realised John was still on the floor and bent down on bloodied knees to try and undo his knots. They'd spent more time on his, evidently.

"Don't worry. Next date won't be like this." John spoke warily, I followed his gaze up to Sarah. She was shaking and crying still which had me wondering if maybe I was having the wrong reaction to this situation. Should I be crying? Would that be the healthy thing to do? I paused as I finished undoing John's ropes and heard something moving near me.

I looked over and saw the shiny head of the fucker that'd slapped _and_ tripped me. "OI! ARSEHOLE!" I screamed at him as I took over running, I was going to at least slap him. This probably wasn't an appropriate reaction but I found that crying didn't do shit for me. Anger, however, did plenty.

"Rose?" I could hear John call my name but tuned it out as I got closer to him, he looked back at me with a bit of terror evident. I was pumping my arms and legs as I got closer and jumped, some how I landed on his back. He let out a groan as I felt my tail bone hit his spine. "ROSALYN!" Sherlock was calling my name now but I'd get one slap in before he could catch me.

"Don't ever fuckin' slap me." I hissed as I slapped his back with as much force as I could muster before Sherlock yanked me off of him. Sherlock pulled me to his front as I glared at the bald man on the floor in front of me. I tried to kick out of his grasp but he just pulled me to him tighter. He got lucky, next time I'd send that bloody nose bone up to his brain.


	13. Chapter 13

I was currently being lectured by Sherlock Holmes of all people as we stopped around the medical team. I was just glaring forwards as a woman in blue continued to dot around my cheek and the side of my head. She'd already gotten my knees and had put large plasters over them under the torn jeans. GREAT. More rashes. I should go around with medical alert bracelet that said I was allergic to adhesives.

"...running off like that could have gotten you killed." I raised a brow at Sherlock as he stopped ranting for a second. It'd taken a bit of convincing from John just for him to let the actual medical professionals take a look at my head and stitch it up. I felt it was bit over the top and a little odd for him if nothing else. He had to have a ulterior motive for the protective facade.

"Yeah. And if you'd given me a second more, I could have at least scratched his eyes out." I smarted with a little smirk cropping up on the side of my face.

I felt the scratchy wool blanket come around my shoulders again and glowered at the man who kept putting it on me. "Enough with bloody tarp. I'm not in shock." I hissed as John and Sarah came to stand in front of us. I stood, stretching one side of me as I felt the fatigue wash over my body. I was done here and we all knew it. Sherlock seemed to just sigh as he took of his coat and slid it over my shoulders again, buttoning it up. Pretty soon I was just going to keep the stupid coat.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report." Sherlock called to the DI, Dimmock or something of the sort. I wasn't that fond of him...to be fair I wasn't actually that fond of anyone right now.

"Mr Holmes..." He trailed off, looking between us as I came to stop next to him.

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career." Sherlock compliment warily, I rolled my eyes at it and looked away choosing to inhale his coat. It always smelled incredibly clean but masculine. I leaned over and laid my head down on Sherlock's bicep, inhaling. I was a curious creep.

"I go where you point me." Dimmock replied smoothly, nodding. I leaned back to my own space as we started walking again. Apparently Sherlock just smelled like that. I wonder how he did it.

"Exactly." Sherlock was smiling ruefully as we continued to walk until we got to Baker Street. I wasn't about to go home and it seemed that John was just going to walk Sarah home, poor girl. That left Sherlock and I to walk home alone together.

We walked into the flat where I immediately began to strip off his coat and hung it on the rack. I turned to sit in Sherlock's chair when he sat down, staring forwards with his hands steepled. He was thinking...well. Time to disrupt his thinking.

I collapsed into his lap with a small smirk as his attention was immediately drawn to me. "You know, at first I thought they had struck you with the fountain pen." He commented with a small smile growing on the side of his face as he moved his hands to sit on my knees and behind my shoulders.

"I'm hurt, Mr Holmes. I would have hoped you'd expect more of me." I declared with mock-hurt as I placed a hand over my chest. He chuckled and we went quiet for another minute or two.

"Honestly, I was shocked I'd even done it. That was when he got me." I looked away from the collapsed crates of books behind him to his face.

He looked curious as he placed a hand around my jaw, leaning closer. I raised a brow as he got closer and closer until he hesitantly pressed his lips against mine. I paused for a second before I realised what he'd done and wrapped my own hand into his hair to respond in turn. I felt a buzzing sensation against my thigh and pulled back, shifting ever so slightly as I reached down into his pocket to pull out my silver mobile.

I gave him a dirty look that he merely shrugged to, he wasn't ashamed to have stolen it. I looked back down at the mobile when he took it out of my hands, opening it and pressing it to his ear. "Mycroft." He looked amused as he ran a finger down my injured cheek, going around the healing cut as I pursed my lips at him.

"Yes, yes. She's perfectly fine. If you keep breathing like that you're likely to pop a lung, wouldn't want to get blood all over your suit." He sighed after a moment of silence.

I reached for the phone when he caught my hand with his and tsk'd me. "Now, now Rose. I'm in a call. You'll have to wait, love." He smirked as I felt a bit of annoyance reach over my face. Instead I choose to change positions with a bit of knocking my knees together to where I was straddling him.

I leaned up to his ear and whispered "Sherlock." He seemed unaffected as he smirked at me. Fine then. _Here_ we go, fucker.

"I don't know how, Mycroft. Couldn't possibly put her on the phone." He replied with a bit of exasperation. The brothers didn't like each other at all then. Interesting. No matter, Sherlock was about to be teased to the nines.

I leaned closer, dragging my teeth along his exposed neck and kissing the spot right below his ear. _That_ elicited a reaction. He reached around and squeezed my arse as he turned his head to the side, going for my lips. It seemed like he was almost growling as he dropped the phone beside him and kissed me. I pulled back a tad but his hands came around and kept me in place while he grinded against me as I was perched on his lap. Damn. He'd learned _again_.

**LEMON BRO.**

He either had past experience or he'd been studying up because now he was trying to french me but anytime I'd get close to overpowering him, he'd nip. He was so totally the dom type. How hadn't I noticed this before? He was taking deep breaths and I could feel his heart beating rapidly as I wrapped a hand around the base of his jaw.

"Hold on." He mumbled distractedly as he stood with his hands on my arse, keeping me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist without thinking about it as he carried us back to his room, I'd assume.

I saw him kick the door shut as we entered, leaving us alone in the dark room. I felt him come around the room and released my grasp around his waist when I felt the soft sheets on my shoulders. He trailed rough kisses down my throat where he'd ran his hands up under my sweater, pulling it up.

I reacted easily, helping him take it off. It landed somewhere in the room with a soft patter against the floor as I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. He seemed to get impatient because he pushed my hands away and a second later I heard a bit of fabric ripping. Another second later in the dark room I felt him press down on my frame, his skin felt cold against my own but it wasn't clammy.

The hardened length was still pressed against my thigh as he continued to mold his lips to mine, I wasn't expecting the intensity that I was currently feeling. If anything I was expecting to have scared him off ages ago but now here we were with him stripping down to nothing and me tugging to get my jeans off. Did I really want to do this? Was this _really_ a good idea?

He jerked me up to him with a bit of a grunt as he sat on his haunches. I was almost too distracted by his tongue to realise his hands had traveled down the cusp of my jeans towards my clit. I felt my body jerk unconsciously as he started to roll it in between his fingers. He pulled away from my lips but I could feel his eyes on me through the darkness as he slid a finger in and out of me.

I let out a low moan, pushing him into action with his fingers moving faster. The feeling of heat rose in my core as I gasped and moved to slide my jeans off all the way. It didn't take much effort as he smoothly pulled them off and resumed his motions. My back arched with pleasure giving him access to nip at my throat and chest.

I officially think this is a _wonderful_ idea. Who knew he actually had skill in the bedroom?

There was a quick movement as I went to put my head in the crook of his neck with my arms wrapped around it when his fingers disappeared and I felt him slid into me. His hands were on my hips, directing me to move at the pace he wanted. His chest seemed to vibrate against mine as he pumped, his head was in the crook of my neck as he laid us back on the bed. Vaguely I could smell a minty shampoo and sweat. It was an odd combo but I was distracted by the guy above me as he started to move faster.

He was mumbling something that I didn't quite catch. "What?" I gasped, trailing my nails roughly down his back.

"I asked..." He pushed harder, enough to move my head up the bed by a bit. " _Who_ do you belong to, Rose?" I was taken aback by the possessive tone and started to feel a bit of stubbornness come on.

I let out a low chuckle and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His pumps slowed, he seemed unsure of what I was about to do and I loved it. I leaned my head down to the crook of his neck and bit down with some force.

"Brat." His hand came around to wrap around the front of my throat as he jerked back with a growl. It was a loose grasp, not meant to hurt me. It seemed like more of a power-play than anything.

"Maybe." I whispered with a grin. He started pumping faster with more intensity all of a sudden, taking me by surprise. My hands came away from his neck and fell back across my mouth to keep my from crying out. He leaned down, I could feel his curls brush across my face as he took a bit of my flesh into his mouth and sucked hard on it. The bastard was giving me a love bite. I went to move his face away when he caught my hands and pulled them above my head.

I was distracted by the heat building and felt myself go over the edge. I only really realised after the fact that I'd made quite a bit of noise and it'd pushed him over the edge as well. His actions slowed and he let go of my hands as he pulled back. I felt shakey, like I had low blood sugar, when I moved to sit up. Sherlock was moving around in the dark, I could hear clothes rustling.

**OVER**

A shirt seemed to smack me in the face as it was thrown, making me jump. "I'm going to need pants as well." I stated plainly into the darkness as I felt the shirt. It was a button up, it had to be one of his because it was long as hell.

"Doubtful." His voice was rough sounding, like he'd overexerted it.

"Trust me. I can't wander around London in only your button-up, Shirley." I sighed as I stood, moving to slid my arms into the sleeves gingerly.

"You're not _observing_." Sherlock sounded closer and exasperated as he stood near me.

"It might help if I could actually see you." I mumbled. I began to button up the front as I sighed, nodding my head to the dark. He'd intended for me to stay here, for how long? I wasn't sure. However right now it seemed that he was wanting me to go do something before I fell asleep. Considering Sherlock's habits I'd have to say he wanted to clean up.

"Right." I nodded, mostly to myself as I finished buttoning up and went towards the door. I bumped into Sherlock's side clumsily, it gave me a little bit of a laugh as he opened the door. His curls were crazy looking and his face was flushed and his eyes were wide, pupils dilated as he looked back at me. I tilted my head in thought as I took in his expression. His eyes ran down my figure until he turned quickly and began to stride forwards. Interesting.

* * *

I rolled over in my morning haze and let out a sound of pain as I rolled right onto the stitches. Miraculously, both the ones on my head and on my arm were on the same side. That bit was a lucky break, easily.

I could hear some sort of music outside my bedroom door and sighed, peeking open one eye. The periodical table greeted me. I felt a bit of fear rush over me as I realised this wasn't my room...and these weren't my clothes. My chest stung a bit as I sat up quickly. This felt familiar.

Grey sheets, high thread count. Neat. Organised room. Basic though, he hadn't put any thought into it. Piles of clothes on the floor, a purple shirt had been ruined it seemed. Oh. Sherlock. Damn, I liked that shirt.

I rolled myself out of bed shakily, last night had been rough. In more ways than one. I paused as I started to pull on _my_ clothes, that'd been an awful idea. This only complicated things. I'd learned my lesson in Uni before I'd even met William that dealing with Sherlock's brand of man was a terrible idea. Things _always_ ended in a bit of horror with that sort. Even if you'd grown up with them.

I needed to leave. I needed to leave now. I started to pull on the sweater quickly and moved towards the jeans. There was a dull ache in the base of my stomach when I moved telling me he'd been rough, indeed. Just bloody perfect. I opened the door and quickly started towards the bathroom.

"Morning." John greeted me warily over the sound of soft classical music being played in the apartment as I made the dash.

"Morning." I replied shortly as I closed the door roughly behind me. Okay. Time to look presentable because _now_ you're going to need to go to the store and grab a contraceptive, because you were an idiot and got caught up in the moment. Right? Righto.

I pulled my hair up and wrapped an elastic around it, holding it up. I felt a bit like Frankenstein with all of these stitches but I was told they'd be absorbed as it all healed. That was well enough for me. I washed my face and stepped out. Sherlock caught my attention from the living room, he was wearing a suit and seemed to be holding a violin in his hands. I supposed that was the source of the music then, I didn't realise he played.

John appeared to be trying very hard to stare at his paper as he sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee. As I stood there, every once in a while he'd glance up at me and quickly looked back down. I pursed my lips and started for the living room, leaning over to search for my mobile. I found it between Sherlock's chair and the side table. It seemed a group had already come and taken away the stacks of plastic crates, giving the room an open feeling again.

"Cheers." I called as I grabbed a scarf from the rack, not checking which and cleared the stairs in less than 10 seconds. I was power walking down the sidewalk, heading for the supermarket when I slammed into someone.

"Ah!" I gasped as I held my stitched arm and looked up to glower at whoever'd done it. I saw a man that wasn't necessary tall or short, in the middle really. He met my eyes for the briefest of seconds, a slow grin running over his face before he kept walking. I felt my breath catch in my throat but straightened quickly to continue speed walking down the walkway. He'd reminded me of someone from Dublin, before I'd moved here with William. Someone that was dead. He'd stay dead.

* * *

"Miss Grey." I paused in my steps at the sound of Mycroft's greeting raised the hair on the backs of my arms. Sighing I turned around to face the irrate man.

"Mr Holmes." I replied plainly, watching him stand near the door of his car. The door was open, I knew he wanted me to go inside but I wasn't about to give him that pleasure.

"Made a mistake in your night time activities?" He raised a brow as his eyes scanned down my frame to the bag in my hand.

"One of many." I replied easily, looking back at him as he tapped the car seat with the tip of his umbrella.

"Have a seat. We can discuss in a more...private setting." He smirked roughly, waiting for me to move. I raised a brow but hedged my bets and moved towards the seat slowly. I sat down, he followed me into the car. At first he was silent as he tapped the screen hiding us from the driver, I felt the car begin to move as we stared at each other.

"You're quickly burning bridges, Miss Grey. Sherlock plays then throws his toys away when he's tired of them. " He was warning me of the consequences I'd face if I continued to see his brother.

"That was a one night mistake." I gritted my teeth and turned away from him to look out the window.

"It will not be repeated." I muttered into the tinted glass.


	14. Chapter 14

"What...what happened to the house?" I raised a brow as I realised there were only remains left behind. Firefighters were still putting out the smoke forcing ash up into the air. I went to step out of the car quickly but I found I was stopped by Mycroft's umbrella.

"Fire. Struck up sometime this morning." Mycroft's tone was...distant. He was trying to hide something as I looked back at him.

"And William?" I raised a brow as I took in his brows and wrinkled face. He looked tired. Like he was carrying the weight of the world. His eyes reminded me of a wiser, fatigued, Sherlock. Sometimes I felt like Sherlock had the eyes of a little boy and other's I felt like he knew just exactly what he looked like and how to use it against me.

"Mr Barsworth is surprisingly, alive...An unknown spectator happened to walk by and pull him out sometime last night." Mycroft replied slowly, easing his umbrella up as I rolled my eyes at his vague response and opened the door. It seemed William was still here which surprised me but it was still early morning.

"What happened to him?" I asked as an officer tried to push me back. I just continued to stalk forwards, undeterred by the men, women, and chaos surrounding me.

"Bit of a beam or something fell on him when he tried to run. Sounds like he was a little gassed up to me." I pursed my lips as I took in his face. It looked more like he'd been smacked in the side of his face with a beam than that one had fallen on him.

"What makes you say that?" I looked back to the male who was slowly stitching his cheek up. His eyebrow already had a line of butterfly stitches going across it but his eyes were closed, he was still mumbling something under his breath as he leaned back onto the side of the truck.

"Kept yelling about a ghost with black hair runnin' about, settin' the place on fire. Truth of the matter is there was just a gas leak and he thought to have a fag in bed." He nodded back towards William whose's eyelids weren't moving. He was asleep then. I felt my face tighten as it occured to me what had happened. I have an odd feeling that the divorce papers were now drifting with the wind with the rest of the bloody ashes.

"I see." I mumbled, taking a step back to look at the remains ofa house I once enjoyed living in. It was gone now. It was all gone. What do I do now? Insurance would come around, we'd have to get new papers drawn up, and I'd have to find the cash to actually stay somewhere until the insurance went through. He'd causd so many more problems than he'd solved. Good god. I never thought he'd burn the bloody house down and I wanted to know _why._

"Miss Grey." Mycroft called my name, drawing my attention as he motioned to the car. William would have to ring me when he got up, I guess. We sat in the car for maybe another five minutes before Mycroft finally spoke what had been on his mind.

"Under the flag of good faith in your...promise that it was indeed a one time mistake..." He held my eyes with a look of warning in them.

"I have decided to lend you a rent-free space in my home for the time being should you accept the house rules." Mycroft's voice was hesitant but also a bit vulnerable. His eyes were analysing as he took the risk, a minor tightening in his shoulders from stress. He cared. That was his own downfall and I would ride it to the ground.

I turned my head to the side, looking at him and his odd little umbrella. He was always carrying it, I felt he'd hidden something inside of it. "...I would like to hear the rules, Mr Holmes." I stated softly. His lips quirked at the formalities, which was understandable.

"Other people, including men, are not allowed when I am not home unless I have condoned it. You're not to go into my office unless I am in the office with you and you will check in with me before disappearing for several days in a row. " He stated them like he'd just been reading the list over in his head until I opened my mouth to disagree with the last rule.

"I realise that my warnings surrounding my brother will not deter you, however I cannot have an occupant of my home disappear without my knowledge." He shushed me with the sentnce.

"Hm." I closed my mouth in a thoughtful expression as I took him in. Was this something I wanted to do? Would it make things easier? Most definitely. I could slid him into drawing up the papers, having his people fight the companies, _and_ have a roof over my head. It'd give me more of a reason to avoid Sherlock Holmes and the messes he brought with him.

"I agree to follow your rules, Mr Holmes." I declared, sticking my hand out to shake his.

"Mycroft." He corrected as he took my hand and gave it a good shake before retracting his own.

"Mycroft then." I aquiesced with a bow of my head to him. I needed to play nice until certain things were all over with and we both knew it.

* * *

I fell into Mycroft's lifestyle easily after the stitches dissolved and my hair grew back in. It was natural for me to play the part of a docile lover, holding on the arm of a man in power. I'd played it so many times, I could mimick it all in my sleep. Greet with a soft voice, shoulders relaxed but leveled, speak only when spoken too, take small sips, no rough hand gestures in conversation...it was so dull. I knew Mycroft was bored most of the time, sometimes he'd let me play with the higher officals whose wives had elected that night to fall down ill.

They were simple most of the time, a prolonged touch on the wrist, a little giggle and blush when they complimented my figure. Mycroft didn't allow much more past that and a longer glance between them. I'd found he was stiffling at night but allowed me to wander when it was daylight out. I'd thought about taking a few classes at the university close by but of late, I'd been feeling eyes on me. Always on my back.

"Just a chai tea, please. No milk, only water." I ordered, the barista nodded at me, writing a few squiggles on the paper cup.

"Name?" She looked expectantly.

"Grey." I smiled as she nodded and wrote it all down. I handed her the 3 quid and went on my way to wait for the the drink. I tried to subtly glance over my shoulder to see that nothing was amiss. The cafe's persons were entirely normal looking, drinking various coffees and teas, some chatting, others on laptops. Wait.

"Rose." A deep voice bounced in my ear making me jump a little. I gasped and spun my head back around to see pale eyes and skin.

"Jaysus. _Why_?" I excalimed incredulously as I put a hand over my heart.

"I find myself in need of your eyes." He spoke seriously but his eyes were running through a list of new facts about me. I could see him logging it all in his head as he looked at my cheek, hair, arm, legs, chest, stomach...

"I'm sort of using them right now." I smirked as I looked back at the counter, my tea had arrived surprisingly quickly and I hadn't even heard them call my name. Great.

"Apparently not. I've been standing behind you for a good 30 seconds." He retorted smugly. I raised a brow at that and looked around, wanting to wipe the smug look off of his face. Where was John?

I took a step forward, pressed up against his front. "And wheres your lover then?" I quiered with a smirk forming again when I reached around him for the tea. I went to take a step back when his hands slid under my jacket, squeezing my hips. Damn it.

"Hiding away at my brothers, ignoring my calls and being a general _pest_." He retorted quickly, looking the slightest bit annoyed as he pulled his hands back to lay at his sides. His eunication of the p in pest had me smiling though. I loved the funny way he talked sometimes. Eugh. Rose, why?

"I'm not sure of why just yet. Point is, I need you for a case." He raised a brow as I forcefully pulled away from him.

"Right right. Lead the way Obi-wan." I motioned with my cup as he looked a little befuddled, not moving.

"...Let me guess. You know what what an Obi-wan is." I sighed dramatically, looking put out with him.

"Its obviously not nessesary information. I've most likely deleted it." He replied slowly, not seeming to want to say 'I don't know'. Arrogant sod that he is, I got that much.

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes as I followed him out to the curb and sipped tea while he flagged down a cab. I didn't want to know how he even found me here or if he'd been the eyes I'd felt for weeks now. I'd asked Mycroft if he'd been keeping up with me daily and he said he'd stopped after the second week of me ignoring Sherlock.

* * *

"Do you read John's blog?" Sherlock interrupted the silence in the cab with his question, he looked a bit urgent and even annoyed as he asked.

"John has a blog?" I raised a brow, looking to him. I knew he had one but I wanted to see what he'd do if I acted totally innocent.

"Good. You don't need to read that dull dribble." He seemed even more bothered as he huffed, nodding.

"Right." I mumbled warily as I took him in. He looked a little insecure but distracted for the most part. His mind was racing now that the question had been answered.

* * *

"You." I was greeted by an irate John Watson when we came through the swinging doors.

"...You?" I replied warily, not entirely sure what I'd done to deserve the finger pointing that he was doing right now.

"I've got a bone to pick with you and your bloody-" I raised a brow as John began to rant. "John. Now isn't the time, I'll deal with it." Sherlock's voice drifted across, I started to smirk at that. I wouldn't get a scolding by John.

"Rose. Take a look." I looked back to see Sherlock sitting down at a microscope, pressing something between two glass slides. I nodded, taking a step to go around John with a bit of victory in my prance as I came to stand on the other side. I'd been wearing heels which had dramatically slow my gait when we were coming it. It was a bit annoying to say the least. Especially when he kept yelling "Keep up" at me every few meters.

I picked up the shoes, turning them over in my hands. Clean, recently washed, faded marker on the inside, soles worn down, and laces changed over a period of times. I'd recognised this brand of shoes from a kid that'd loved them in highschool. The white had been yellowed, this was one of the original pairs then. Not a reproduction.

"Loved them, large foot size, weak arches. They were owned by either a gargantuan lady or a teenage boy. They've been handled well, cleaned and marked but it's been faded so he's washed them quite a bit. But...that was a while ago. Maybe 10 or 20 years." I called, looking back towards Sherlock.

"Twenty years?" John straightened up, looking surprised.

"Yes good job. And the laces?" Sherlock nodded quickly with the tiniest of smiles, it bewildered me at times that he seemed to be proud of my observational skills.

"She get's a ' _good job_ '?" John scoffed, coming around to stand across the table from us.

"Feeling jealous, Mr Watson?" I turned, leaning on the desk as I smirked across at him.

"Of course not! I'm just annoyed. A bloke can be annoyed with another bloke without it _meaning_ anything!" He blusterd as my smirk deepened, enjoying the look of discomfort on his face. They must have gotten word of the gossip going around about them being a couple then. I'd heard about it over the internet newspapers when I wandered around the web for things to do.

"I can rectify that in just _one_ night." I winked and felt a sharp sting on my arse. I looked back with confusion as Sherlock's hand drew away, I was being given a dark look. I'd realised a little after that I'd just been scolded for playing with John with a slap to the arse. Who did that? Well I knew who _else_ but he wasn't around anymore.

John however, seemed to not notice as he only speed up in his rant. "...said all the same bits but instead he just uses me to show how much cleverer he is. Why do you get the nice treatment? I-" I started to snicker at his rambling.

"Because I've staked a claim on her, John." Sherlock deadpanned as the room went an odd round of silence that was broken by my snicker's becoming a choking noise. Holy fuck what do I even say to that?

"Now, Rose. What. About. The. Laces." Sherlock was bothered now, tapping the shoe in my hands with each word. I could tell from the tense shoulders, drawn brows, and narrowed eyes. Sometimes I wonder if he knew the expressions he made.

"Not the originals. Changed maybe four times considering the gouges on the holes." I took in a breath and motioned to the little stretches in the loops.

He nodded quickly. "Well done for the most part. He did wash them, religiously. Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made." Sherlock cited, pulling out his phone and typed.

"Hold on, they're _twenty_ years old?" John asked again, coming closer.

"The white's yellowed just a bit." I motioned to the side where I'd seen the yellow. John still looked taken aback as he leaned closer, looking at them now. I think we were all pretending that bit didn't just happen. I personally, was fine with that.

"They're not retro – they're original. Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine. " Sherlock called, holding up his phone.

"But there's still mud on them. They look _new_." John was surprised still.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis will shows where it's from." Sherlock sighed as he looked back into the microscope. I put the shoe down as I took a seat next to him, I was far enough to not have to feel his body heat but I could still see the computer screen. I took out my mobile and began to play games on it until the scan was complete. It didn't take long for John to break the silence though.

 _"_ So, who d'you suppose it was? The woman on the phone from the bomber." John clariified as he paced. I raised a brow at that.

"You're dealing with a bomber now?" I leaned on my elbows as I looked across the table at John.

"He's got this woman strapped up, waiting for Sherlock to solve whatever the hell it is." John sounded like he was in distress, motioning to Sherlock. I nodded as a second passed and we heard the trill of a text message alert.

"Sherlock. The phone call woman?" John was getting testy as he was ignored by the detective. It looked like there was about to be a lover's tiff. I was more curious about the phone, and stood, getting closer to the scanner and Sherlock to see where it was coming from out of boredom.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." Sherlock shrugged, still looking into the microscope.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John was trying to have a break through but I'm not sure he was going about it the right way. Sherlock worked differently than most. Its what was so damn interesting about the man.

"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock sighed, leaning back and glancing across to the screen. There was still no match.

"Are-are they _trying_ to trace it, trace the call?" John tried again, stopping across the counter from us. He looked a bit like he couldn't believe the machine that Sherlock was which was amusing. Sherlock _was_ a machine most of the time but I was starting to fear he'd grown a bit of a heart in the mean time. That meant awful things for both of us.

"The bomber's too smart for that." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he leaned back to look into the telescope. The same trill started, this time it sounded like it was coming from his jacket.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock ordered. I rolled my eyes and moved towards him, draping my body over his back but not moving.

"Where is it?" I muttered into his ear. Right under the collar of his button-up I could see the remains of my little bite. The bruise had faded and so had the lovebite for the most part. I almost wanted to do it again, darken the mark even more.

Instead I just leaned over and pulled lightly at the exposed skin on his neck. "Jacket." His voice was husky as I smiled into his neck, placing another kiss on it and slid my hand down his front. I was riffling through the pockets of his jacket, roughly.

"Careful." He bite out the words sounding strained as while I teased him. I knew he had a weak spot on his neck. Right below his ear lobe and hair line. It was a favourite of mine.

"For goodness sake, I'm still in the room!" John called out, embarassed sounding from the other side. We both looked up with equal faces of confusion as John looked away from us. I let out a little chuckle as I pulled the mobile out of Sherlock's jacket and unlocked it easily. John would have been adorable to mess with but as far as I knew, he still had a girlfriend.


	15. Boom and then nothing

"Want to know who it's from?" I murmered into his hair, bringing one hand to lay lower than the other. His shoulders were tensing and his head hadn't fully turned but I could see him looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Hmm?" I decided to kick it up a notch, turning my head to place a chaste kiss on the side of his mouth. He seemed to turn last minute resulting in a kiss that went just a little longer than I thought was friendly. We were crossing intimate territory when I pulled back to see his eye's had darkened and he was smirking.

"Whose it from, Rose?" His tone was amused but the way he said my name had me thinking he was trying to not laugh. He found my panic funny. Little bastard.

His hand had drifted down to press mine to the insides of his thighs. They were warm but dry, the slacks he was wearing were soft. "You sur-" I started only to interrupted by John.

"For god's sake. Who is the message from?!" John was irritated but embarassed sounding. I sighed but nodded anyways. Enough games for now since I'd gotten scolded twice now by John in just the last minute or two.

"Text from your brother." I smirked as I laid on his back still, holding the phone for me to read it in his lap. I was brushing against his hips and lower torso ever so lightly. I hadn't been able to stop myself from messing with him considering I hadn't been able to do anything of the sort for a good month and a half. His own brother wouldn't enjoy the position but it _wasn't_ in his house.

_RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS_   
_Any progress on Andrew  
_ _West's death?_

_Mycroft_

"Delete it." His voice was suddenly short and he retracted his hand, making me want to pout. It'd take ages to get him wound up again.

"Delete it?" John sounded surprised, I looked up from Sherlock's lap to the doctor who was _still_ blushing. How cute.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock shrugged, moving my head and upper body as he did so. I looked back down at the phone realising that this was only the last message of the past _hour_. Interesting that they'd lost their missile plans. It had to be why he'd been corralled in his office late last night, explained the yelling.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important, Shirley." I smirked as Sherlock seemed to sigh, pulling his head up to look at me.

 _"_ Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock was looking at me like I'd have answers. I shrugged with a small smile, moving a bit away from him to lean on the counter. I'd recalled Mycroft saying that he'd be late home tonight, I hadn't paid much attention to be fair.

"His what?" John sounded tired as he quiered.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story." Sherlock pursed his lips, looking at me still. I raised a brow at that.

"Well you are a bit bothered with him, aren't you? Might be better to text you since you'll read it either way." I crossed my arms as I looked at him. My own white polka-dotted button up was creased in the elbows already but it still bugged me to wrinkle the shirt. I liked it.

"The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" Sherlock sighed again and leaned back into microscope.

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die." John grounded out. He was annoyed at Sherlock's lack of sancity for human life. I lacked it as well, honestly. I could care less. Even if it was my life that was ending, if my time was up...So be it.

"What for?" He looked up at John as I looked over my shoulder at the blonde man.

"This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by _their_ bedside and see what good it does them?" He was being short with John and it seemed to have tipped just past the doctor's patience meter.

"What if it'd been _Rose_ on the phone, Sherlock?! What would you be doing then, eh?" John snapped, motioning to me with a sharp tone of disbelief as he banged on the counter's corner.

A moment of tense silence passed as I considered the concept. "I suppose he'd be doing the same thing, John." I snorted. John gave me a look of morbid disbelief as he shook his head.

"Ah!" Sherlock's sound of delight drew my attention back to him, making me stand and turn. I put my hands on Sherlock's shoulders as I leaned over his head to see a giant "SEARCH COMPLETE". I could have just turned around but this way I got to both touch him and antagonize him. Only the antagonising was out of curiosity. The other was from something along the lines of a craving.

"Any luck?" I looked up from the screen to see Molly Hooper walk in, eyeing where my hands were with pursed lips. I held back a snort but took my hands off of Sherlock, I wasn't about to mess with her. I already knew she'd just get angry and as far as I knew, she was valuable. However when that ran out, I wasn't going to hold back for her sake...If anything I'd just do it _more_. I might be a little vindictive.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock was triumphant as he nodded at her. She looked just as delighted as she came over to stand next to him on the other side, leaning down and looking at the screen.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't..." A light masculine voice apologised from the doors, drawing my attention. He was in his 30s, wore slacks and a t-shirt. I trailed up his figure until I met his brown eyes. They were bright as they took me in and then focused on Sherlock. He was analysing.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly greeted him shyly. She liked him a bit, not as much as Sherlock but she liked him none the less. He made a move as to leave but it was half-hearted, he didn't even turn fully towards the door. He knew she would ask him to come in. Had they planned this out already? Her showing him off to Sherlock?

"Come in! Come in!" Molly was excited, right on que as well. He turned back and started walking towards us, acting as though he was shy but carried himself confidently. He'd matched the shuffling footsteps of an insecure man but had failed to keep his shoulder's hunched.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." Molly introduced the man to Sherlock with a shy grin that reflected some triumph. She wanted to show him off but 'Jim' was eyeing Sherlock already.

"Ah!" He gave an awkward smile and nod.

"Rosalie Grey." She looked less happy to introduce me, her eyes lingered on where Jim's were before quickly glancing at me. She was nervous I'd make a move on her new toy. He felt interesting but wrong. Like I knew what would happen if I hung around for one day too many.

"Call me Rosie if you'd like." I gave him a tight smile. I was suspicious. His eyes reminded me of someone I knew from my childhood but I wasn't about to call him out for that or the name mishap.

"Rosalyn." Sherlock spoke up before I did, making us all look at him. I felt annoyance grow as I looked at him eyeing me then going back to the microscope. He had to be wondering why I didn't bother correcting her.

"I'm sorry?" Molly's voice faltered. She didn't think he'd say anything or she just didn't realise her mistake.

"Her name is Rosalyn Grey." He corrected without looking away from the microscope for more than a second.

 _"_ Right. And, uh ... sorry." She looked blankly at John force a small smile up onto my face. They had most definitely _not_ practised this and she didn't realise he'd correct her. Interesting. She thought _I_ was dispensible.

"John Watson. Hi." John introduced himself shortly making my smile grow. I was now just amused with the awkwardly tense atmosphere.

"Hi." Jim replied warily, his eyes stuck on Sherlock's back. He was admiring the specimen.

"So _you're_ Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim started to walk closer to Sherlock. If he was testing to see if I'd move, he was wrong. I stared back at him as he looked away from me to get closer to Sherlock. I could feel the side of his pants brush against my legs, almost a little creepy how he was now wedged between Sherlock and I.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Both she and Jim shared a laugh as she explained, hers was more awkward and highpitched than his. Sherlock looked up from the microscope briefly, glancing over Jim.

"Gay." Sherlock sounded unimpressed as he blurted the little fact out. I suppose I could see it, the product in his hair and the underwear's waist line so high but otherwise...his mannerisms conflicted. He seemed interested in Sherlock but not for his appearance.

"Sorry, what?" Molly was taken aback.

"Nothing. Um, hey." Sherlock corrected himself, giving Jim a small fake smile. It was one of the poorer ones I'd ever seen him give. He wasn't even bothering to try.

"Hey." His voice was light, appreciative. He enjoyed what he was looking at but it wasn't quite...heated? Intense? Interested? It wasn't sexual for sure. He lacked that little gleam but what it was that he wanted, I couldn't tell.

He lowered his hand and knocked a dish off the table, Sherlock gave me an irritated look like I was supposed to do something. "Sorry! Sorry!" Jim apologised as he scrambled to pick it up and set it back down. What was I supposed to say? 'Get out, the master has had enough, '? Christ, Sherlock.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?" Jim shuffled back to Molly, he'd corrected his shoulders when he stood back up. Looking entirely insecure and awkward now.

"Yeah!" She grinned, nodding. He stopped beside her, putting a hand over her back. It seemed to just be drifting. Interesting, he didn't want to touch her.

"'Bye. " Jim called.

"'Bye. " Molly called back, softly.

"It was nice to meet you." He looked back to Sherlock, wistfully. Sherlock wasn't responding, he wasn't interested whatsoever in the man. I had to break the embarassingly long silence instead.

"I'll follow you out." I gave him a tight smile as his eyes centered on mine. I almost felt chills run up my spine but stopped myself from reacting. There was something...wrong about him.

I walked around Sherlock and reached for my bag, taking it off the counter. I slipped it onto my shoulder and clicked across the floor, opening the door and looking back at this Jim following me.

"Age before beauty." I smirked as he seemed to give me a little giggle and walked through. I didn't like that giggle. At all. It was real, for sure. But...knowing. I didn't like him knowing when I didn't.

"Text me if you need anything." I called to John and Sherlock who seemed to have finally realised I was at the door, not at the counter next to him.

"I need you right now." He stated incredulously. I raised a brow noticing how much alike him and a petulant child were.

"To do what? Stand there?" I motioned to the counter.

"No. To bounce ideas off of and receive _legitimate_ feedback." He pursed his lips as I snorted.

"Right. Ta." I shook my head, turning to leave when I heard the stool grate across the floor. That stopped me, forcing me to look back at Sherlock.

"Rosalyn." His voice was a warning I'd regret it as he stood. I felt my mobile buzz and looked down at the screen as I pulled it out. It was my regular phone, which made the text odd but not impossible perse.

_You're needed at 34 Lower St Martin's Ln_

_MH_

"Actually I've just been informed I can't by your darling brother." I smirked as I turned and left. Jim had disappeared already by the time I'd finally gotten out of the little debate with Sherlock. I speed walked up to the street and flagged down a cab, telling him the address.

I think it was really when we'd gotten to the less populated area of town that I'd begun to wonder if he'd sent me the wrong address. That was when I started to text him, replying to the message I'd already gotten from him.

_Are you sure it's that exact address?_

_RG_

I looked back up and bit down on my lip as we came to a stop infront of an old warehouse looking thing. I paid the cabbie and exited, walking around the building first. I was curious as to what on earth he could want me to do _here_.

_Yes. Inside._

_MH_

I paused a second, tilting my head at the screen. I suppose this was it then. With a sigh, I pushed open the rusted door and strolled in. The only bits of light were the one's coming in from the areas in the ceiling that had been rusted through. I was a little thrown. Mycroft was always one for some sort of privacy and currently there was nothing and no one here.

The door slammed shut behind me as I took a few steps into the center. I looked over my shoulder to see a large man in a long jacket. Lovely. This was most definitely _not_ one of Mycroft's ideas. One bloody meeting with Sherlock fuckin' Holmes and now I was going to be murdered by a ruddy giant. If I was going to die, I wanted to _at least_ give the other guy a hard time and how was I supposed to now? He could punt me into a window and not feel a damn thing.

"Miss Grey." He nodded to me. He had a heavy slavic accent, but which one? Serbian? No. Macedonian? No, it was too heavy on the R. Czech? Yes. He was Czech. Did I know anyone from there? I don't think so. Maybe I'd pissed someone off from the Czech Republic lately.

"...You." I replied loftily, pursing my lips. I had absolutely no idea who he was and though I found it amusing...he didn't.

"I must deliever you to Mr Moriarty." He stated plainly. This was a job to him and he had no qualms about kidnapping me. I supposed I'd either go or I'd be killed.

"Is that right?" I asked and tilted my head, looking him up and down. He was a giant. Towered over me by a good bloody meter and he'd easily outrun me. I felt like one swing to the back of my head from him and it'd just pop off and fly across the room.

"Yes. Either you come or you die." He nodded, curling his hands up and relaxing them. Did he kill people with his bare hands? That was brutal as hell.

"How pleasant. And what happens then?" I quiered casually, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You see." He smirked, curling his hands into fists. I opened my mouth to say something back when his fist flew, hitting the side of my head. I stumbled to the ground, bewildered and too slow to process what had just happened. I felt a prick and looked back as he pushed down on the plunger, a clear liquid was slowly leaving the barrel of the syringe into my arm.

"You...you're not playing fair." I mumbled as I looked back to the floor, my brain was running slowly. I took in a deep breath to steady myself, the ground smelled like dirt and ash mixed in my nose. I blinked a few times the fog, growing and disappearing and looked back up to push him away from my arm. He was gone, my head swiveled around as I blew air out of mouth. Where'd he go?

"Wehered. Where...did you?" I was relaxed now, almost sleepy but my head hurt a bit and my tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I'd been drugged but I didn't know with what. I was relaxed. Calm. Numb. Anesthesia? Maybe it was only a little. That was poss-oh we're moving.

He pulled me up off the ground, tying my hands together infront of me. They curled into my chest with a rope that seemed to circle my torso. "Now you wear this." I think he might have been sitting or maybe I was sitting. Why did I need this? I turned to look back at him and realised my mouth was just hanging open, words weren't being formed.

I wanted to sleep but my mind was fighting. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to know who he was and why I was here. I was aware but I wasn't alert. I felt warm and tingly. Like the kind of feeling I got when I thought of Sherlock. I don't know if I liked that.

"You stop talking now, Miss Grey." He nodded, to me warily. I furrowed my brows confused until he slipped the gag into my mouth. A second later and some thing black was slid over my eyes. Did the lights go out? No...There was something else. Right. I was being kidnapped. Not bad in terms of kidnappings, this one was one of the more comfortable ones. I felt the air forced out of my stomach as he hefted me over his shoulder and giggled. _He_ was kidnapping me. Someone who I'd never met before was going to kidnap me.

"Quiet." He sounded mad. Whoops. I sighed as he seemed to continue a long gait, it was relatively fast. I could hear gulls and water. Were we near the river? Eugh. Yes. We're near the river. Doors opened and I was slid roughly into the seats, it felt like the back seat but I couldn't tell from the way my hands had been bounded around each other tightly.

The car was moving faster and it wasn't slowing down for lights it seemed. Maybe 10 or even 20 minutes later the car began to jump, we weren't on concrete roads anymore. We'd gone out to the country and my grasp of time had definitly slipped as I realised my right arm was totally asleep when I thought we'd only been here five minutes. Great. For all I knew we'd been in here for hours.

I was entertaining myself by thinking about all the numerous ways I could get back at Sherlock for the comments he cracked so freely. They held so much weight in my mind but he uttered them like it was just an accepted fact of life. 'Staked a claim' my arse. Oh the doors been opened.

I was pulled out by my legs and hauled back over his shoulder. Everything sounded open leading me to believer we were outside until I started to hear his feet click on the ground. Like it was made of metal. A second later I was dumped onto the floor and another sharp sensation in my arm. Again, I felt all warm and tingly, my worries had faded as the door slammed shut and I was seemingly left alone.


	16. Chapter 16

My head hurt and I wasn't sure where I was. It looked to be like an underground bunker but larger with metal grates lining the floors and cement walls curving up and over us. Air vents pushed out cold air to combat the dozens of monitor's that glowed infront of me. I was on the ground, and my hands weren't bound together anymore. This had been a kind kidnapping. They hadn't wanted to hurt me, just get me here without commotion.

"Your hair's gotten longer, pet." The same squeaky, Irish accent greeted me as I woke. I knew that voice. I remembered it from over 6 years ago and even longer before that.

"Your forehead's gotten bigger, _Jim_." I retorted from my place on the floor. He let out a chuckle as he turned. Not much had changed, he'd aged that was for sure. I remembered him as James Morie from down the street. He'd been a childhood friend, high school sweetheart, and dead in the second year of college. He'd drowned according to the papers, went swimming late at night and drowned. I always felt he'd come back, that he couldn't possibly be dead just like that. The officers and shrinks told me it was all apart of the greiving. I'd feel like that for a long time and I did. When I left Ireland with William, I'd let go. He was dead and gone to be.

"How'd you know? I thought I pulled off the gay IT guy _so well_. But you knew." He seemed to sigh as he turned around to me. I stared at him for a second before I tapped the side of my head.

"It's your eyes. You've always had the look of a snake." I replied dryly. I had barely knew honestly but I was totally up for making him think I was always onto him.

"Cute for the girl that screamed bloody murder when I gave her one for her birthday." He smirked as he sat down. I forced my lips to relax, I remembered that birthday well. He'd handed it to me, wrapped with a bow. Then when it bit me, I screamed and he chopped off it's head with his pocket knife. I remembered seeing him saw at it's spine as it hissed and screamed. It was cruel and inhumane. He'd stop and tell me what it felt at each stage.

"Plus you bumped into me. A month or two ago." I just stared back at him, keeping a schooled expression.

"Fair enough. I couldn't help myself." He seemed to sigh before he clapped his hands together with excitement. "D'ya want to see what I'll send your plaything for _your_ clue?" He grinned. He was the bomber? Oh good. He'd gotten bored and now I'm going to be blown to bits.

"I suppose." I shrugged, standing shakily. My legs felt like jelly and I felt nasueated to say the least.

"Come, come." He waved me over, I obeyed as I moved slowly to stand over his shoulder. He had his mobile out, it was a picture of a painting and another of the Thames it looked like. I remembered flicking past it on the telly ages ago. It was the lost Verneer painting.

"Isn't it grand? It's the hardest piece, pet." He turned back to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He looked giddy. I had to stop myself from flinching at his touch. It'd upset him. It always upset him when I flinched.

"So is that it then? You strap me up like a unibomber and send me on my way then hope Sherlock can find me in time, James?" I raised a brow, looking unimpressed as I laid my hands on his shoulders.

"Oh no. Of course not. What do you take me for? Instead. We'll strap you up and have you call." He smirked, looking back at me. "Whats even better is the little assassin we've got set up for dear Mr Holmes. Strangles with his bare hands, very nasty bits of data for Sherlock to dismantle." I recalled the man that had taken me here. He must have been said assassin.

"I don't think he's going to bite the way you'd like, James. I'm not of that much importance." I ran my hand down his cheek, like I used too. He reacted the same, relaxing under my touch and ever so slightly leaning into it.

"Oh Rose. Rosie, Rosie, Rose. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I swallowed deeply as I took him in, he stood, picking up a piece of hair and bringing it to his nose with a grin. "You don't give yourself enough credit, pet. It'll get him right in the old, dead, heart strings." He smirked.

"I must disagree." I smirked as I pulled my hair back from his touch. He snatched my hand, looking it over innocently before turning it to face him. I raised a brow as he merely sniffed my palm then let go.

"You've been nervous, huh?" He looked back at me. I shrugged.

"Well as far as kidnappings go, this was one of the softer ones." I smiled as he grinned.

"I remember the old days, pet. You always pissed on the wrong people." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I've got a bad habit of that." I smirked as I leaned down closer to his face. He paused a second before reaching up and kissing my nose. It was a soft gesture. One he'd done many a night when we were children laying outside in the fields. A beep sounded off behind us, dragging his attention away in flash.

"Oo! I think hes slowly starting to get it." James let out a little giggle as he clicked around the screens. One seemed to be Sherlock's flat, a camera in the kitchen and livingrooms. No one was inside the flats, they had to be outside and it looked like it was day time. My eyes drifted back to one that mentioned Carl Powers, a british boy that had died in our highschool. Lovely. He'd already come out about Carl to Sherlock...and it seemed they'd gone to the police...and he'd only had eight hours. That one he'd failed.

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly as I looked through four open chat windows that were repesectivly named 1, 2, 3, and Rose. He'd planned this bit. He'd been watching me until the right time tp pluck me out of London and use me as bait. 1 and 2 had already been filled with differnet things, the second one was choppier.

_The clue's in the name. Janus Cars.  
_ _Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Sherlock.  
_ _Patience._

"How are you talking to him?" I raised a brow as I realised only half of the conversation was filled. The third window was half filled. My clock was winding down it seemed.

"Phones, pet. Yours has been ringing for the past day. Its a wonder you've only just now woken up, I had to shut it off." He snorted, shaking his head as he began to focus in on what looked to be a CCTV camera, it was outside of 221B. Sherlock was racing up the street it looked like.

"He didn't do too well on the second, I wasn't impressed anyways." He snorted with mirth making me sigh. "But the third is going to take some work for 'em. I'm going Hollywood." He sang with a grin that reflected back in the darker monitors. The third window was the main one it seemed. I read the last few lines.

_This one is a bit defective. Sorry.  
She's blind. This is a funny one. _   
_I'll give you twelve hours._   
_I like to watch you dance._

"Why is there a chat window for her is she can't read?" I asked curiously. They hadn't communicated since then it seemed but there was action in the upper monitors signalling Sherlock was home. I watched with interest as he paced around the sofas. I looked to the desk to find a single black cell phone next to my silver one and grey one. He'd been using the black to call his hostages then.

"You know me, pet. I like to keep records." He smirked as he started to type a new line.

_You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the dots._

I pursed my lips at that but he seemed to take a second to rethink his next line until he finally typed it all out in one go.

_Three hours: boom boom._

These weren't records, they were possibly memoribilia of someone's life being taken. It was the same reason he kept Powers' shoes. It was a memento.

"You know, he went through quite the tantrum when _you_ didn't ring him back." He giggled, shaking his head. I didn't respond, my lips were pursed together in a tight line that he couldn't see. I knew James. I knew him well enough to know he'd only dangle me in front of Sherlock for fun if he knew I meant anything at all to him.

He picked up the phone as Sherlock stood infront of the wall of connections and pictures and maps. Another man was standing next to him as he stopped and waved his hands around. He was trying to find some sort of connection in the wall.

I watched him click a set of numbers before holding it to his ear and speaking slowly. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?...Joining the dots." Each word was clear and concise. Sherlock on the screen had stopped and was holding a phone out to his side, it seemed they were both listiening to it. I was wondering how he'd even gotten signal in here.

"Three hours...Boom...Boom." He finished with a giggle and ended the call. I couldn't hear her on the other side.

"That was a bit dramatic." I sighed as Sherlock stuffed the phone back into his pocket and continued to pace. James turned away from the screen, seeming to sigh.

"Always trying to be on the side of the angels, pet. But you know you don't belong there." His voice was light as he wrapped a hand around my arms, squeezing.

"I created you. I molded you in my image. You're the dark. You _belong_ in the dark." He shook his head, like I'd just made a minor mistake like falling off my bike and scraping my knees. I was almost taken aback until I remembered just who he was.

"Of course." I sighed, nodding my head. He was the reason I was the way I was. He gave me the urges to play with those around me, manipulation was my game. I didn't enjoy death, it was boring to me. Same ending every single time, their heart stopped and they died. Simple as that.

"If you'd like you can sleep." He smirked, looking me up and down.

"I don't think so. According to you, I've slept much longer than I need." I snorted, shaking my head. There was that but also the fact that while James was about consent, he'd totally try to jump me in my sleep. Sleepy consent was just as good in his book, surprisingly however, unconcious wasn't.

"Food then?" He raised a brow, running his hands to rest down on my arse. I shook my head, this was something he did for as long as I could remember. He had the most twisted way of taking care of me. If I ran from him or tried to disappear, he'd have someone jump me in an alley and take me back. At which point he'd bathe me, give me new clothes if the others had been ruined and care to any wounds I might have gotten. I was a pet of the oddest variety.

"Let me know. I've gotten another one just like you but shes...unruly. Still clings to the idea of life." He smirked, leaning back in his chair. I'd lost that little need for life ages ago. He'd burned it out of me as a child, one death-defying stunt after another but somehow he'd always cradle my fall. It was only later that I'd realised he created every stunt and made sure he'd cradle my fall. It made me dependent and trusting of him.

"Oh? Replacing me already, are you?" I smirked as I leaned closer to him. He wasn't like Sherlock. He knew every curve and hair on my body since we'd been nine years old which made most of my other tactics inept.

He leaned in closer, the smell of his colonge drifted over my face. "Oh you'll never be replaced. Maybe tweaked a bit to get you back in shape...But I'm not ever letting you go." He smirked, his voice serious. "Just always remember my golden rule. Stay out of daddy's way." He placed a kiss on my cheek quickly leaning back to his own space an spinning around. He was enjoying watching Sherlock and he knew I'd grown to care about those around me. He just wasn't entirely sure who yet.

It led me to sit back on the chair near him and watch Sherlock dance for him. He'd run around, call someone new then turn back and say something. At some point an older woman came up and began talking to them. I wasn't sure who the other guy even was, he looked to be a copper. But I wasn't sure what rank. If someone from the police was joining Sherlock, the cases had gotten more and more public. There were higher stakes now.

We'd been here for hours when Sherlock seemed to have figured it all out and ran back to the police, typing in his little post. It seemed they were communicating through Sherlock's blog. Interesting.

James called, telling them to let her go unless she said something else. She'd already been informed to not describe him then. It was safer for James that way, he'd never liked to get his hands dirty. I was either relaying messages or doing things myself when it came to James.

He sat back in the chair, leather rubbed against his jeans as he sighed. He was hoping Sherlock would fail then. I waited silently up until the phone rang again. "What. Did. SHE SAY?!" He yelled the last bit, infuriated and angry. I leaned back, waiting for him to get all of his anger out before I reached out to comfort him.

"I see. You've made the right choice." He snapped the phone shut, growling to himself. I was expecting him to rake the desk's contents off it or yelling or something but instead he just sat back down. Angry.

"What happened?" I broke the tense silence as he leaned back up to the computer, typing along now.

"She described me to him. She made a mistake." He smirked, looking back to me. I blew out of my mouth slowly. It was my turn now.

"I suppose I should go now?" I raised a brow as he analysed me over.

"Mmm. No. I'll use you for the finale. I thought about using the little doctor but I think you'll be much better suited. He looks the type to fight back." He shook his head, changing his mind quickly. I nodded and leaned back into my own chair. So be it. My clock had been set back by a day then.


	17. I really dont need a Hero.

I think we spent most of the night watching Sherlock run around the city. James was having a grand time but I fell asleep when the pair split up sometime in the afternoon. When I reawoke I found my headache was gone but I was thristy.

"James..." I sounded surprisingly hoarse.

"Its on the desk, pet." His voice was soft but clearcut. I blinked a few times at the monitor's shine and reached for it, drinking it down rather quickly.

"What are they doing now?" I sighed as I cracked my neck and leaned closer to the monitor. Sherlock and John had just disappeared into a school? No. University.

"Oh they're about to run into my Golem. He's found a loose string in the Vermeer painting's legitimancy and so have they. Lets see who want's daddy's attention more, hm?" He smirked, as we waited to see who would come out of the building alive.

It seemed I'd been asleep for the first half of today and now it was close to night time but there were still too many poeple out and about near the uni for it to be too late. I felt it barbaric to set your own pawns against each other but that was his style. He loved seeing who could fight the best for his attention. I'd never fought for it in my life, he'd found me when I was nine and he just seemed to never bloody let go. Even when he'd been gone for a while, he always came back. He'd disappeared for a few weeks the first time. Then a few months and finally he'd turned up again after 6 years.

The same freakishly tall man that had brought me here, sprinted out of the side door of the University. I watched him disappear into an alley. "Oh my. Mr Holmes wasn't as worthy as I thought." He sounded suprised but disappointed.

I raised a brow as I responded "Don't be too quick, love." I had it in my heart that Sherlock was going to get out of it. He was like that, able to just barely scrape by.

"Someone's been studyin' up on the Holmes boys." He declared behind steepled fingers as Sherlock and John sprinted out the same door and stopped, looking around.

"Habit. They were amenable nonetheless." I drawled.

"Naughty girl. _You_ playing with the government has given _me_ trouble. Took me weeks to just get around the Iceman and then when you knew, I had to get you out of there before you ruined the game." He shook his head.

"The _Iceman_?" I almost snorted as I took in the nickname for Mycroft.

"Hes practically made of ice. Sherlock _was_ the Virgin but you kind of ruined that one, huh?" He cut me a look quieting my grin back to an expression of calm.

We'd delved into silence for a few seconds until I blurted it out. "Didn't fuck like a virgin." James seemed to pause for a second, absorbing the information.

"What'd he fuck like then?" He tilted his head, looking genuinely interested.

"Kinda rough and tough. Not nearly as bad as you but...sort of." I shrugged, motioning back to him. A slow grin rolled over his features when I made the compairison. I was hoping it'd give him an ego boost somehow.

"Oh yeah? You ran out of there lookin' like you'd been attacked by several men." He raised a brow, daring me to challenge the statement. I'd supposed he'd been watching the apartment for some time now. It was true, I was covered in bites and nips all over my body, he'd lingered around my chest and neck in particular.

"So hes a little overzealous." I smirked in return, I wasn't about to disagree with James. He let out a low chuckle at that.

Maybe an hour later the police arrived. We watched John and Sherlock slip away from the scene after talking to what appeared to be the same man from before. James leaned forwards switching windows to another that was the view outside of a modern art gallery. It was the Hickman Gallery. He already knew where Sherlock was heading too, this had been apart of his plans.

"I've been wondering..." I started, not entirely sure how to pose the question nicely. I'd attracted his attention though, he was watching me from the corner of his eye.

"Why Sherlock? Why now?" I tilted my head as I quiered.

"You know I've got an addictive personality. Sherlock...hes a means to an end." He shrugged, explaing it all softly. I nodded in return. The door slammed open and a taller, buffer looking guy came in with a plate of food. He'd attracted my attention with the chicken and rice. I felt a smile blossom over my face at the sight of it, it'd been my favourite meal for ages.

"Thanks." I acknowledged as the browan haired man stopped and nodded.

"I figured it might be best if you were fed now and got a shower before you take the stage. Sebastian will set you up in the jacket." He nodded back to the man who met my eyes and stared back. He wasn't dead but his eyes were bright like James' or Sherlocks. He was ordinary but well-versed in something or otherwise James wouldn't keep him around.

"Right." I nodded quickly, scooping up the rice onto my fork to watch Sherlock step out of a police car with the other man I'd seen before.

"Who is he? Hes police but..." I pursed my lips as I took him in. Greying, so hes stressed but any level of the police force would be stressed. He's older so possibly higher rank. There just wasn't enough to go on from a camera in the street.

"Dectective Inspector Lestrade. Sherlock's buddy-buddy with him because he makes the job easier. Catches all the killers for 'em." James responded easily. I nodded again, my mouth full. Sebastian stood there until I was finished at which point I was directed away.

"See you in a bit." James called as the door shut. I followed along behind him, barefoot and finding that grates really bloody hurt when you walked across them.

"Sebastian..." I stopped, tilting my head with hope. He stopped as well, looking back at me with a serious face.

"Would it be possible for me to jump on your back? Pretty please?" I gave him a pout as he looked a little taken aback. He hadn't expected the pleasantries.

"I suppose." He trailed off turning around for me to latch onto him. I bent down and ripped my skirt up to my thigh before I hopped up onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his front.

"Do let me know if I'm choking you, love." I pecked the tip of his head as he nodded. I was hoping to throw him off again but he didn't say anything else as we came through the doors out to the outside world. It seemed we were literally in the middle of no where. Green rolling fields for ages, nothing to be seen except for an actual house next to the bunker. I'd been right when I guessed outside in the country. He was laying low in the most literal sense.

* * *

I'd been showered, given night clothes, and even fed the next morning by the time it was my turn to show. I was currently wearing the same clothes I'd gotten here in, James wanted him thinking I've been forced to wear them for a good four days and other manner's of abuse. I thought it was ridiculous but whatever. I'd be wearing a polka dot button up, ripped pencil skirt, and bloody heels.

"This is going to be heavy Miss Grey." Sebastian had finished messing about with the vest. Several blacktaped packages had been stuck to the front and sides, I had to guess those were the little bombs.

"Oh just go ahead and call me Rosalyn." I smiled as I stepped closer and tucked my arms in through the individual holes.

"Jim asked me to stay on formal terms, Miss. Sorry." He gave a bit of a snort, shaking his head.

"Right." I sighed, nodding. He'd never liked his lackey's addressing me with my name or anything of the sort. James was funny that way. He loved choices. I could do this or I could die. They could call me Miss Grey or they'd die. Death was always looming but it was all a matter of how quickly they wanted it to come. He came around to the front testing the fit as he buttoned it up.

"It's not going to lay flat. Sorry, love." I smirked as Sebastian frowned at the chest. I felt eyes on my back telling me James was standing there, watching.

"I've realised as much. We'll put it on you when we get there. In the mean time, you've got a call to make and we've all got a drive." Sebastian started unbuttoning it as he spoke, pulling it off my frame easily.

"And what am I to say, James?" I asked smoothly as I turned around to take him in. He'd worn a westwood suit, it was one of his favourites consider the care he took mantaining it.

"Oh I've gotten a notecard for ya. Nothing outside of that though and at least _try_ to sound scared. Honestly. He'll think I'm running a resort with the likes of you." He smirked, walking closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I rolled my eyes at that but nodded.

"Phone?" I stuck out my hand for it with a smirk.

"You'll be using yours." He bowed his head as he pulled my gray mobile out of his pocket. I nodded, turning it on. It buzzed three times.

_Are you okay? -John Waston_

_Where are you hiding?_

_SH_

_I told you to let me know before disappearing_

_MH_

I'd had 8 missed calls from John but only one from Mycroft and Sherlock respectively. It seemed they realised that I'd been taken and calling me wasn't going to do much, John however had kept trying. It was around 1:32 PM I believe and I only had a single bar making me wonder where the hell we were.

"How long is the ride then?" I asked curiously as I scrolled through my phone's contacts for Sherlock's number.

"5 hours dear. Traffic is a bitch." He smirked. I nodded again as I pulled the note card from his jacket and looked it over. We'd had to be in York then.

_Lets go back to where it all began.  
_ _No tricks, no puzzles. I just want to see you in the flesh, old friend._  
Midnight.

"Right then." I nodded as I found his contact and pressed enter. It rang for maybe 10 seconds before he picked up. I could hear trains in the background and the sound of John Watson talking quickly.

"Hello Sherlock." I greeted smoothy, straightening out James' tie.

"Rose? Where have you been? Yes John, she's called."

"Lets go back to where it all began." I enuicated the b's with a bit of flucuation. It'd give the impression I was especially nervous.

"Rose?" He sounded almost numb with a bit of confusion which enticed me but also threw me. I found that I suprisingly _didn't_ enjoy making him worry for me or anyone else. He was Sherlock, a dead inside man. He could't be more right now.

"No tricks. No puzzles. I just want to see you in the flesh, Old friend."

"When?" He'd asked like clockwork as I was going down my card.

"Midnight." I ended the call with that and looked back to James who was giving me a so-so sign with a shake of his hand.

"Better than you would have done." I smarted, tucking both the phone and the card back into his jacket pocket.

"Well I've also not shagged him, so who knows really? Might have a bit of a competition going. " He smirked taking my elbow as we came down the hallway to the stairs.

* * *

I fell asleep on James' side when we were driving down. I don't think he minded considering he said nothing when I laid my hand on his arm and promptly fell asleep. The vest was next to me, laying there with flashy lights and black boxes that brought death. It didn't scare me like it should. It'd be quick and simple. Sebastian would be the one to shoot if it came down to that.

"Time to play your role." James woke me up a hand lay across my face. I blinked with bleary eyes and yawned. It was dusk now and we'd parked in a crowded parking lot. I wasn't quite sure how we were going to do this whole bomb business. It was incredibly eye catching with the lights and the bulkyness.

"Remember nothing about what's happened for the last few days. You don't know where I am or where you were kept, pet." He reminded me. It was a warning that I'd be watched. I was always watched it seemed. That was fine for me, I was a bit of an exihibitonist anyways.

"Yes yes. Lets get to it." I nodded, rubbing my eyes and pulling out of his grasp. I was throwing the dice up in the air at this point. It might work...it might not. I might live and I might not. I'd die no matter what so what was today or another few years, really?

"This time, we'll have an ear bud feeding you the words, if you didn't understand a line just wait. Say nothing and I'll repeat it." He was instructing me as we sat in the car. I nodded and sat back, my hair was a little worse for wear making me want to run my fingers through it.

"Describe me or where you've been or _deviate_ from the cards and BOOM." He yelled the last bit making me sigh. I already knew the rules, we'd played this game before.

"Hard to scare me with that, James." I rolled my eyes as I felt the car pull forwards again. This wasn't our final destination then, instead it seemed we'd continue to aimlessly drive until it was time. James ran me through little bits and pieces that might happen and how to prepare for them. He'd declared that I could talk if he said I could. Lovely.

* * *

"Oh my, Sebastian. If I were any fonder of you, I might think you were flirting." I smirked as he button up the vest, pulling it down slightly. He gave me a small smile as he shook his head.

"I hope you live, I'm quite fond of _you_." He snorted. I grinned as we stood in the pool now. James' had left already, going around to talk to others I'd guessed. Or whatever the hell he did when he wasn't stalking Sherlock's every move. I'd say I was worried but I really wasn't. James came and went just as the tides did. Perhaps in 60 years I'd stop thinking he was about to come back from the dead for one more time.

"How sweet of you." I smiled fondly at him as he helped me into the giant arse coat. It was in part to hide the bomb and in part to keep me a little warmer. I knew James had been worried I'd freeze wearing so little despite it being so warm lately. He pulled the ear bud up from under the collar with a clear wire running down to a box that was tucked away in the top of my skirt. I took it from him and pushed it into my ear, adjusting it just so.

"Can you hear me?" James' voice came through a little staticy.

"Maybe. Do I get a sweetie if I do?" I bit down on my lip as I teased. He sounded like he'd let out a little chuckle.

"No but you might get to keep your body in one piece, if you play nicely." He smarted back. I rolled my eyes at that.

"Lovely." I sighed, adjusting the coat around my body to cover everything more.

I was moved to the back of a changing stall to enter when Sherlock announced himself to the pool hall. James claimed he'd most likely bring a memory stick that was supposed to hold missile plan info. He wasn't interested as he already knew he could have them I'd guessed. I was almost bored senseless when I heard a door open and close. The sound of two pairs of shoes on tile echoed. Oh good. Its about time.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from _this._ " Sherlock's deep voice echoed as he yelled. It made me want to smile but I kept a pretty good poker face as I exited the changing room. His eyes met mine with shock and almost a bit of horror. He looked surprised and hurt at the same time telling me he was wondering if _I_ was the one orchestrating this whole thing. John just looked horrified, his eyes checked over everything surrouding me.

_Evening_. James' voice started in my ear. He was close by to know that Sherlock had finally arrived though I don't think we were expecting John to show as well.

"Evening." I greeted him like a parrot. His hand lowered slightly but he didn't turn, looking still in shock. John's mouth was hanging open forcing the corner of my lips up in a smirk.

_This is quite the turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?...Would you stop smirking, you're ruining the bloody effect, Rosalyn._

"This is quite the turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" I spoke with a dead voice, not displaying emotions and forced down the corner.

"Of course..." John's face had darkened, he looked positiviely furious with me. He was about to be very much surprised.

"Rose? What have you don...?" Sherlock spoke softly, looking shocked still. He reminded me of the petulant child again but this time it seemed his toys had been broken.

_Bet you never saw_ this _coming after four days missing._

"Bet you never saw _this_ coming after four days missing." I tilted my head as Sherlock turned now, starting to walk towards me. I wasn't sure if he was about to shoot me or hug me.

_Show him the boom-booms, pet. It'll slow him down._

I acknowledged his request with a thinly veiled smile at his terminology of the explosives and pulled my hands out of the pockets. I moved smoohtly to pull the jacket apart slightly, revealing the packets. Both of their faces soon turned to despair as they took me in concentrated on one area in particular.

I looked down at the vest with curiosity and saw Sebastian's sniper laser on me. Oh I see, didn't know he'd be doing that. It definitely wasn't nessesary for the marksman to aim but it served it's purpose to tell the other two that I'd be shot if they tried any funny business. John had the decency to look a little guilty as he swallowed, taking me in while Sherlock looked almost relieved. He'd truly thought that it'd been me all along.

_What would you like me..._

"What would you like me..." I'd lost the other half of the sentence over static so I said nothing, hoping James would know I didn't hear it.

_...to make her say next?_ James repeated it slowly.

"...to make her say next?" I narrated, as Sherlock began to look everywhere around us. He was searching for James or Sebastian I guessed but he wouldn't find either of them in here. John was still, he hadn't moved at all. In fact he looked a bit pale, like he was either going to pass out or jump me. It was almost amusing to see every thought pass by his face, 'What should I do?' 'Should I pull it off her?' 'Should I run?'.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

"I love you...I love you...I lo-" I drawled with a lack of interest as he narrated those particular words. I didn't use words like love or soul mate and we both knew it. I'd lost my propensity for either of those things years ago.

"Stop it." Sherlock was angry sounding now, or maybe just stressed. It _was_ rare that he'd been at a disadvantage like this. John had finally found it in him to move forwards though I think it was out of anger rather than bravery. His weak spot were weapons being pointed at him it seemed. Well that and Sherlock, obviously. If I hadn't slept with him, I might have thought they were a pair themselves.

"Leave her be and come out, coward!" John called out to the upper gallery. I almost wanted to laugh at that but it seemed he'd settled on being the brave little soldier. Sebastian had very serious orders to not be seen or heard, it'd take a lot more than 'coward' for him to react.

_Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him._

"Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him." I felt my eyes roll as he continued. Of course he had to boast about Powers. It was one of the first deaths by his own hand that had made the papers here and at our own school. He'd always said it was his claim to fame.

_I can stop her too. Or maybe John watson. Stop their hearts._

"I can stop her too. Or maybe John Watson. Stop their hearts." I sighed now, growing tired of James' dramatics. Another sniper revealed himself with a red dot on John's chest that stopped him from moving. For a second there I felt like Sebastian had run across with a laser pointer and now he was trying to keep both beams steady on. The thought had me stopping my lips from quirking up at the image. I should really be taking this much more seriously.

"Who _are_ you?" Sherlock called to the seemingly empty pool. It was perfectly timed considering James had planned it to be like this and I was about to snap from boredom. The door opened at the other end of the pool ever so slightly.

"I gave you my number." James' soft irish accented voice drifted out from the corner. I didn't turn around to see him, I knew him already but Sherlock and John looked even more confused as James strolled forwards. The image of him fumbling at the lab making me guess that he'd placed the number down when he replaced the tin...or he'd just slipped it some other way.

"I thought you might call." He continued plaintively. I felt my eyes roll uncontrollably as he came closer. Sherlock's back straightened out as he reacted, John however was still frozen in time with the red dot in the middle of his chest. Definitely terrified. I wouldn't be surprised if he collapsed with that look on his face. Men. Or just some men, I guess. To be fair his girlfried would have most likely passed out by now.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket..." James started, forcing Sherlock to reach down and pull the pistol out of his trousers.

"...or are you just pleased to see me?" He sounded amused that Sherlock would even bother to pull a gun on him. Honestly, I was just touched by the attempt...that and I had a feeling he'd nicked it from John's room.

"Both." Sherlock smirked as he focused on James behind me.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi! " James greeted happily with a higher pitch. He was still the James I knew, at least for now though he'd changed his last name. Expanded on it more like.

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Sherlock tilted his head in confusion. He hadn't seen anything strange because he'd only looked at the physical qualities. He'd never even looked him the eye for more than a second.

"Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point. Only Rose recognized something was off. You really should pay more attention." He sounded closer now telling me he was walking closer. He held all the cards at this point and we both knew it. I was a little offkelter being at a disadvantage now. Sherlock's gaze flickered to mine then Johns with a questioning look on his face, he hadn't even noticed that I'd been acting oddly. John of course had noticed nothing at all.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." He snorted. I sighed and switched legs to stand on. I was wearing heels at a pool, not the most stable things and to top it off I was carrying close to 30 more pounds on me.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see..." He spoke plainly, like it was normal conversation. I was reminded again that James' streak for crime had only grown though now it was past Ireland. It seemed to encompass the entire UK.

_"_...like you!" He sounded surprised, like he'd only just made the conection.

"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Sherlock was mocking him now with the old show 'Jim'll fix it', though it'd definitely been for children 'round then.

"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" He continued, looking a bit impressed now.

"Just so." James agreed, it sounded like he was much closer now but he hadn't given me the okay to talk again so I remained silent and still. I was just as still as John was who had the oddest expression of despair, shock, and an illness of sorts all one face.

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock muttered, looking amazed no one else had thought of that before. His pistol had begun to lower a tad as he got distracted with the idea.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will." James sounded triumphant, but close. Close like he was right behind me.

_"I_ did." Sherlock smirked, cocking his pistol. Oh, terrible move, Shirley.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way." James snorted.

"Thank you." Sherlock smirked

"Didn't mean it as a compliment." He retorted.

"Yes you did." Sherlock challenged with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock..." He grew serious by the end of it, the sounds of his shoes echoed as he came closer.

"Daddy's had enough now!" His voice was higher pitched as he sang the warning.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play." James continued in his normal tone of voice now. I sighed, switching legs again which drew Sherlock's worry back to his face. His eyes flicked between me and James.

"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." I could see James out of the corner of my eye. The notecard from earlier was still poking up out of his pocket as he smiled. "Although I have _loved_ this – this little game of ours." He nodded. "Playing Jim from I.T." He switched to a londoner's accent. "Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" He smirked as he went back to an irish accent, now in my line of sight. Sherlock was close to a meter away, John was a statue next to him with his hands raised and the red dot ever present.

"People have died." I was surprised Sherlock was going for a humanitarian view with the man who'd strapped me up in a bomb.

"That's what people _DO!"_ He'd transformed in an instant to Jim, the angrier version of him as he yelled the last word furiously. _  
_

"I _will_ stop you." Sherlock declared valiantly. I almsot laughed but stopped myself. Sherlock was a great detective, sure. But Jim and James had been doing this thing for as long as I could remember. He'd gotten me out of any actual punishment from my parents or my teachers or even my peers...though those were too afraid to make fun of me after Carl Powers.

"No you won't." He was calm again, shrugging.

"You all right? " Sherlock looked across to me, looking concerned. I didn't respond as he hadn't given me permission just yet. I felt him wrap an arm around my shoulders as his breath tickled my ear.

You can talk, Rosie. Go ahead, pet." James ordered fondly.

"I'm a bit tired of the dramatics and this coat is _really_ fuckin' heavy." I cursed, looking back to James who snorted. "Your boyfriend's in worse shape than me." I motioned back towards the motionless John whose face had darkened again. Sherlock's lips quirked up but then forced themselves down as he let go of the pistol and pulled out a memory stick and held it up to James.

"Take it." He waved it to him. I felt his arms let go of me as he noticed it.

"Huh? Oh! That!" James strolled forwards, past me and next to John. "The missile plans!" He looked excited until he took it and looked at it, sighing.

_"_ Boring!" He sang, shaking his head. "I could have got them anywhere." He nonchalantly tossed it into the pool. I took a step back as John rushed up and wrapped his arms around James' neck and chest. Sherlock took a step back with me in surprise but somehow he kept the pistol raised and aimed.

"Run!" He yelled at us as I raised my brows. He was ruining this meeting, honestly.

"Oh. Naughty girl. So many fingers in so many men. Naughty, naughty." James looked back at me as John held onto him.

"She's not slept with me." John looked taken aback for a second as James tsked me. I was still wearing the vest but I knew he wasn't about to blow me so close to himself.

"Old habits die hard. Don't they, James?" I gave him a tight smirk. I wasn't about to dismiss it if it could possibly throw James off of his game.

" Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets." He began to grimace as John tried to pull him even closer.

"They're so touchingly loyal. But, _oops!_ " He grinned, looking back at John before he looked at us.

"'Fraid you've shown your cards there Doctor Watson." James snorted as John resumed his ministrations of jerking him around. John's red dot now switched to Sherlock's forehead as he shook his head making me sigh.

"Gotcha!" John released him almost automatically as James sang, grinning again.

James continued to stroll back towards me like nothing had happened. "Fix me up there, pet." He motioned to the suit and made eye contact with Sherlock. "Westwood." He stated indignantly as I rolled my eyes but obeyed, brushing out the wrinkles and straightening his tie. I undid his button simply because I thought it looked ridiculous.

"You know what she said to me? First thing she said to me after _eight_ years apart from each other? "Your forehead's gotten bigger, Jim." He snorted, shaking his head.

"What a kidder, this one. Eh? I'm sure you know what I'm talking about." He turned fully towards Sherlock, he was teasing him, it almost bugged me.

He walke around me to my back. "Ou! Want to hear a story?" He clapped, wrapping his arms around my front. His breath was warm and moist against the back of my neck and shoulder.

"Long long ago, in a land far away, there lived a wee girl and boy. Now the boy's parents couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, and all the children were afraid of him. Then along comes the boy's 9th birthday. It _was_ the 9th right?" He stopped, his head was on my shoulder as he spoke almost into my ear.

"It was." I murmered. He was playing with Sherlock, guessing to see how far he could go until Sherlock snapped and reacted. I was trying to beg Sherlock with my eyes not to show weakness in front of him as his eyes flickered over to mine and back to James. This story was likely to antagonize the man regardless though.

"Right so, along comes the boy's 9th birthday, when a wee, shy, _naive_ , ordinary girl came along and gave him a birthday present. Now at first the boy was stupid, he ignored the gift assuming she was far too ordinary to interest _him,_ the king of kings." His grip had tightened, but now he was stroking the flashing lights and explosives attached to my chest.

"Is there a point to your memoir?" Sherlock snapped, looking annoyed and bored.

"Then the boy looked at her present. It was a story. It wasn't well written but it _showed_ me. She wasn't ordinary. No. NOT at all." I grimaced as James placed a hand along the back of my neck and squeezed as he yelled. He had no reason to yell outside of hiding something from me. I noticed the little flucuations in his voice and his eyes, things that Sherlock would dismiss as insanity. Was he fond of me? Past a pet? Did the story upset him?

"She saw beneath my games and my facade of an ordinary little boy. You know? That was when I knew. I knew I just _had_ to make her mine. My own little work of art." He resumed stroking my hair, softly.

His touch was almost gentle which was what really scared me. That was rare and odd. Sherlock's face was strained but still bored looking. He needed to hold back. James was an addict at heart, addicted to the thrills of killing and of playing the game. He'd catch every little minute detail and obess over it until he needed more and more until he consumed it all.

"She _did_ need a little bit of tweaking. Yes, but only a little. She was perfect. The perfect thing. No sense of regret, none of their stupid boring little morals, not even a bit of self preservation as you can _obviously_ see. I love the taste of chaos but she's just so..." He stopped, his head was turned towards mine and I scrunched up my cheek when I felt his soft but textured tongue slide up my cheek. Too far.

"James." I felt a bit of irritation and jerked my elbow back into his stomach. He gasped as I turned to glare at him, I opened my mouth and was met with a chop to my wind pipe. For the longest second in time I couldn't breath. I was now gasping for air and I was a little angry with him. His hands placed themselves on my cheeks as he grinned into my eyes, he was gasping but so was I now.

"So...pure. Unattached. Free." He was gravelly as he leaned closer to me. His eyes were drawn to my lips when I turned my cheek at the last minute. He didn't press the matter and I was hoping it'd be sweeped under as me just being angry with him, not me wanting to stay loyal to a Holmes man. It'd be a sign of weakness. Weakness he'd have to eliminate by either getting rid of me or Sherlock to play a little longer.

"D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to _you_?" James turned away from me, not focused on it anymore. I'd noticed that John had taken several steps forwards. I was praying he wasn't about to pull a bloody hero move yet again. This talk would go fine if they'd just both sit down and calm the hell down.

"Oh, let me guess: I get killed." Sherlock sighed, looking genuinely bored now.

"Kill you?" James grimaced and looked away towards me like he couldn't believe my taste in men were such idiots.

"N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no." He looked back to Sherlock, running his eyes up and down his figure.

"If you don't stop prying, I'll _burn_ you." He met Sherlock's eyes, leaning forwards as his face transformed into the Jim I'd known for a while longer than the James that had groomed me into the Rosalyn I am now. I've always compartimentalised his different sides, different bits of his personalities to learn how to act around each. It kept me safe from his rages.

"I'll burn the _heart_ out of you." Jim snarled his warning, looking almost regretful. I could understand it. Sherlock's heart was still alive, unlikes James' and Jim's. It made him react unexpectedly, play favourites, and most of all, fight for something even if he said it was only an organ to keep him living. It coloured his world in a way that James never had the chance to see.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock responded softly. While he did a good job of being serious and believable, I barely believed him simply from the intensity I'd seen in his eyes before.

"But we both know thats not quite true." Jim leaned closer, Sherlock's eyes drifted back to me and I felt my lips tighten. He'd given it away. Jim was guessing before. Now he knew.

"She's got you all twisted 'round. Round her pinky, hasn't she?" He walked closer to Sherlock, giggling. I'd spent close to four days with him and hadn't given it away and _one_ meeting with Sherlock...I'm going to kill him.

"She had me twisted. But it's okay. I twisted her back. Harder. Didn't I, pet? Go on. Tell them how I finally burned the heart out of _you_." He looked back at me with a grin. I nodded with a deep sigh. He was being dramatic for the mixed company of John now.

"I made a mistake. I got attached." I mumbled as he strided towards me, wrapping a hand around my throat and jaw.

"Now, now. Alway's forfeiting the credit you're due, pet. You weren't the only one attached. You had _me_ wrapped around your pinky. " He forced my head up, like he was inspecting the head of cattle.

"I made this one. She was clever as a child. I saw it. Always knew she was the one. Though she's always been a bit of a brat, had to disipline the poor thing." James reminiscent pleasantly. I recalled every time he'd done so, sometimes I was left alone for hours and hours in the dark. Other times it was a physcial repentance, he'd never left a scar though. Only assorted welts and cuts or burns. He'd tend to them after he felt I was sorry enough which I guess was nice? 

"Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat, in the flesh." James grinned, looking around the pool.

"What if I was to shoot you now–right now?" Sherlock raised the gun higher towards James' head.

"Sherlock." I muttered his name with some warning to hold back his trigger finger. I almost wanted to smack him for it, we'd just gotten out of a stick situation from John and now  _him_? Seriously?

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He opened his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grinned at Sherlock. "'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would." He nodded then screwed up his nose. "And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." James sighed as he began to turn away. He was bored now. 

"Ciao, Sherlock Holmes. See you, pet." He smirked at me but looked towards Sherlock with some distaste. I watched him saunter calmly towards the side door that I'd been pushed in through while Sherlock slowly stepped forward to keep him in his sights I'd guessed.

"Catch...you...later." Sherlock took a step with every word as we heard the door creak open.

"No you won't!" James' high pitched voice sang back as the door shut with a loud bang.


	18. Chapter 18

We all seemed to stand around for a few seconds until I heard something fall with a bout of deep breathing. I looked back over to see John on the floor, huffing and puffing. It appeared that his legs had collapsed out from under him. I raised a brow and opened my mouth to ask him if he was alright when I looked infront of me to find Sherlock's fingers working through the clasping on my vest.

"All right?" Sherlock had immediately turned to me after the silence remained clear and looked to be panicked. I'd...affected him? By standing here? No. There was something else.

I opened then closed my mouth, tilting my head with confusion. I was silently motioning to John who was breathing heavily on the floor but Sherlock didn't seem to notice as he starting to try and rip the jacket off of me. It made me lose balance for a second or two but I was righted just as quickly.

He jostled me some more, dragging my attention back to him. "Are you _all right_?" Sherlock sounded more urgent now as he tossed the coat to the floor and began to pull on the vest to yank it off. It seemed to have slipped his mind that it had to be unfastened until a second later when his nimble fingers began to work down the buttons. His eyes were terrified looking, almost manic but focused as he work his way down. I don't think I liked that look.

I turned around when he was done, giving him free reign to pull the vest off as well as collect my thoughts. "I'm perfectly fine." I pursed my lips as he tried to vehemently pull it off in one good yank. He was breathing just as quickly as John was at this point and I was trying to tell if he still had the weapon in his hand or what. I wasn't fond of him trying to yank me all about with a loaded and cocked pistol in his hand.

"I'd be more worried about your boyfriend on the floor there, Sherlock." I furrowed my brows as I looked back over my shoulder while Sherlock continued to clumsily pull with all his might. His eyes were unfocused and he was still breathing hard which worried me.

I staggered being barely balanced on the heels. "Sherlock." I called his name with a bit of annoyance as he worked it down to my elbows finally. I was trying to actually stay on my feet for once today, thanks. 

"Sherlock!" I called his name louder now, trying to get his attention as he roughly stripped it off of me. I turned back around as he bent and skimmed the jacket and vest all the way to the other end of the pool.

"Jesus." I looked down at John as he muttered and felt two hands clasp my jaw on either side.

When I looked back up, it was right as Sherlock's lips and teeth clacked against mine. At first I didn't respond, unsure as to why he was doing this right this moment when his friend was collapsed on he floor and his nemesis had just flown the coop. Then it hit me. Physical comfort. He thought I was distressed as this was how I was showing it, by showing nothing at all. He had to have been studying it since we'd seen the Chinese girl shot in the museum and I'd responded well to it before, but this didn't explain earlier.

I pressed back into his lips then pulled away, laying a hand on his cheek. "I'm really okay." I smiled as he gave me a short nod and pulled away. I watched him grab the pistol off the floor and dash out the side door that James had left through. Well at least he hadn't had it when he was busy ripping my clothes off for the second time. If he did it a third, we'd started up a habit at that point.

I crouched down next to John, putting a balled up hand under my chin to rest it on as I took in his ragged breaths and sweating. "Oh, Christ." He didn't seem to grasp that I was standing there next to him as he continued to almost hyperventilate.

"You okay there, John?" I tilted my head as I took him in. He was in shock it seemed. Whether it was shock that he'd had a gun pointed at him or shock that he'd jumped Jim Moriarty and lived, I would never know.

"Are _you_ okay?" He looked back at me, I could see the whites of his eyes and felt pity for his terror. I placed my hand lightly on top of his that lied over his heart and took in a breath slowly, motioning for him to follow.

"Now hold that breath for 8 seconds, love. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7...and let it out for another 8." I did the motions with him but they only served to make me slightly tired. He however seemed to be better now.

"How are you so calm?" He gasped, shaking his head at me.

"Well obviously he wouldn't blow us up standing so close. Don't be an idiot, John. He'd leave first." I gave him a bright smile as John started to slowly nod like he'd understood that bit now or that it made sense. Of course it made sense, it was all planned and it was all over now.

I heard the door open quickly and looked up to see Sherlock. He was jittery as he paced up and down near us. He seemed to be so hyper and distracted that he didn't even realise he was scratching his head with the end of a loaded and cocked pistol. I thought around asking if he knew what he was doing but instead, John spoke up.

"And are _you_ okay?" John looked up, his chest slowing back to normal intakes of air. I stood slowly as I took him in, tense shoulders, his eyes were widened and erratic, his brows were raised. He was shocked with the total circumstance.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock forced a breath out quickly as he turned to face John and I.

"That, er ... _thing_ that you, er, that you did – that, um" He took in a breath and cleared his throat as he waved his hand at the air and slowed his pacing. "...you offered to do. That was, um...good." He finished weakly, nodding and lowering the hand with the pistol in it towards the floor.

"That was an awful thing." I scoffed shaking my head at the two with disagreement. John looked taken aback as he opened his mouth then closed it. "You almost got yourself bloody shot, John. He wasn't going to do shit otherwise." I shook my head as I put my hands on my hips, feeling the annoyance and anger flow through me.

"And you." I turned to Sherlock now, waving my hand roughly at him. He looked taken aback, like he wasn't sure why I'd take issue with anything he'd done tonight. "Threatening to shoot him? Honestly." I grounded out, shaking my head at their combined stupidity.

I wasn't done though..."And _then_ you're yanking my clothes off like a bloody nutter." I huffed, frowning at Sherlock. He pursed his lips, looking frustrated until he began to grin and took two long steps towards me.

I glowered up at him as he came to a stop near my front. "Thats the second time I got to rip off your clothes." He smirked, looking triumphant as I smacked his chest. "And it'll be the last with that behaviour." I scolded him again, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Am I grounded from stripping you now?" He was borderline teasing but he had a glimmer in eye that had me thinking he might actually be asking me.

"Probably. You're in Rose's clothing jail, as of now." I rolled my eyes as I looked back at him.

He wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt his hand resting just above my arse but there was something colder and heavy telling me he was still holding the pistol. "Can I get out early for good behaviour?" He raised a brow looking almost serious.

"How good are we talking here?" I stared blankly at him for a second, was he seriously trying to flirt right now or did he actually think he was in clothing jail?

His seriousness evolved to a deep smirk as I realised that I'd taken his bait. He leaned close enough to speak into my ear. "Enough that you'll beg for more." I was almost surprised at how brazen he was being right now, I mean this was usually my gig. It almost had me wondering if this was because James kept hanging on me and teasing Sherlock with our history.

"I'm still here!" John yelled out as I opened my mouth then closed it to look at the doctor himself with a bit of annoyance.

"Do you just enjoy reminding us of that or is it a signal that you're feeling uncomfortable with us discussing our future copulation?" Sherlock queried rather speedily making me snort as John just closed his mouth, turning pink around the ears.

He looked down right as all three of us noticed the red dot on his chest. "Oh." He sounded anguished and there was all of zero reason James would _only_ target John. I took a forceful step backwards from Sherlock and looked down as three lasers found themselves on my chest, I looked back up to find Sherlock's face had darkened immediately.

I heard a door open on the far side and turned to glower as Jim. "Sorry! I'm soooooo changeable!" He grinned back at me, no guilt to be seen. Son of a dick.

He laughed and spread his arms out wide. "It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my _only_ weakness." He lowered his hands, putting them in his pockets as I felt anger build up at him for doing this. He hadn't told me a thing. I didn't like that. I don't _do_ not knowing ahead of time. 

"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I _would_ try to convince you but..." He laughed lightly as his voice became singy-songy again. "...everything I have to say has already crossed your mind! Oh don't give me that look, pet." He shook his head, tsking my glower. I only glowered more as Sherlock turned away from me, facing Jim now.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." I looked back as Sherlock raised his pistol, aiming it at Jim. I felt exasperation erupt but it died off quickly when he lowered it, aiming directly at the explosive vest. Smart man. I glanced up to see Jim's face and unsurprisingly he just smiled back. There was no fear with Jim, not ever.

I raised my brow as the introduction to The Bee Gees' song _"Stayin' Alive"_ began to play tinnily from his pocket. Who would be calling?

"Seriously, Jim?" I furrowed my brow, wanting to take the gun from Sherlock's hands and shoot the arsehole in the kneecaps.

"I know. I know. D'you mind if I get that?" He closed his eyes, holding a hand up to my complaints and sighed.

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Bloody unprofessional." I huffed. Jim looked back to me as I rolled my eyes but nodded.

"I know, Rosie. My fault. I didn't put it on vibrate." He sighed as he took the mobile from his pocket and answered it.

 _"_ Hello?" His voice was soft as he spoke into the mic. "...Yes, of _course_ it is. What do you want?" He mouthed 'sorry' at us as I just continued to glower, red dots were still dancing across my chest.

Jim rolled his eyes and turned around towards the wall. It was silent for a second as he listened. "SAY THAT AGAIN!" He bellowed into the phone, making Sherlock and I glance at each other.

 _"_ Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will ssssskin you." He spoke at a normal volume now but it was venomous sounding as he dragged out the S. It reminded me of the snake's spine being sawed at again.

"Wait." He lowered the phone and turned back around to walked forwards to us. Sherlock adjusted his aim towards Jim who seemed to notice and stopped, gazing down at the jacket thoughtfully.

Jim looked back up at me. "Sorry, pet. Wrong day to die it seems." He sighed, shrugging. It sounded more like James now but I wasn't entirely sure. It was rare that he _was_ James around anyone that he didn't explicitly trust.

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock questioned casually. James seemed to just sigh as he looked down at the phone and turned, starting to slowly saunter his way towards the door he'd originally came out of.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." He waved, looking to put the mobile up to his ear again. "Oh and you'll want this back, pet." He stopped, looking back at me as he pulled my grey mobile out of his jacket pocket and waved it in the air. I'd almost forgotten I'd left it there.

"Shall I walk over there and fetch it then?" I raised a brow as I motioned to my chest that was lit with red dots.

"If you're amenable, yes. Otherwise I can toss it into the pool." He snorted and motioned towards the pool. He was being an odd mixture of Jim _and_ James right now. I rolled my eyes as I began to sped walk over there, making sure I didn't slip from the bits of water all over the tiles.

I'd rounded the corner, disappearing from Sherlock and John's sight and plucked the phone out of his hand. "Awe you cleared the messages." I frowned as I stared at the _0 Messages to be displayed_ on the screen.

He had the phone up to his ear as I got there and met my eyes. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich..." He stopped talking, looking back at me with a small fond smile. He placed a hand around my throat and brought me closer, I could hear a softer female voice emanating from the phone but it was too low for me to tell what she was saying. 

"Be smart." He pecked my forehead and let go of my neck to lean back out and snap his fingers. I raised a brow as he nodded towards me and turned, putting the phone back up to his ear. " Right. Now, if you _don't_ have what you say you have, I'll make you into shoes." He continued with the same clear voice as he slowly walked away.

I came back around the corner and saw Sherlock's eyes on mine, I gave him a small smile to signal I was perfectly fine. John's face was suspicious but relieved as I came closer, my heels clicked against the floor during the odd silence. I had a feeling I'd get a lot of suspicious looks from just about everyone after that little gig. Hadn't thought about it...well I had. I just didn't find that I cared then.


	19. Chapter 19

"So there's really nothing you're willing to tell us?" Mycroft looked to be in pain as he sighed and pushed against his cheek. I sat in Sherlock's leather bound chair with newly repaired windows. I hadn't realised that they were only boarded up in the camera's view but damn did I realise it when I ended up cuddling up to Sherlock 24-7. I crossed my legs back over each other and leaned closer, placing my head on my fist.

"You really ought to just go to the dentist." I declared, taking in his swollen jaw.

"Rosalyn..." He was warning me not to deflect. I'm really not about to listen to him though.

"Mycroft..." I smirked as his face darkened again, I enjoyed teasing the older man this way considering Sherlock threw a fit if I got too closer and personal. I'd been living with John and Sherlock for the last week or two after the whole kidnapping bit...mostly because Mycroft refused to take me back in after demonstrating a loyalty to James. It was just as well, honestly. I was officially in the process of being divorced as of yesterday and my insurance claim had been accepted.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask that you join me at the Yard then." He gave me a forced smile with an air of politeness.

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to decline." I leaned back in the chair with little expression. I wasn't about to be interrogated by any of the Queen's men or women, it'd make James suspicious and I'd wind up either surrounding by people with holes in their heads or a hole in my own.

"In the future, it might do you well to cover up that bruise. People will talk, Sherlock." I raised a brow as his tone turned sharp, he was looking to poke holes in my bravado and make me anxious. Wrong area to try. Sherlock had tried it in the very first hour I'd met him, his brother's shit attempts to scandalise my sex life wasn't about to do it for me.

"People do little else." Sherlock spouted off as he looked towards the window.

"Honestly, I'd be more worried the neighbours thought we were murdering her." John mumbled from the corner, bringing a small amused smile to my face. He'd been sitting on the couch opposite from Mycroft and I, typing away on his blog.

"You're always welcome to join us, Mr Watson." I called out to him merrily.

As time dragged on, Sherlock got more and more bored with a lack of murder cases. Everything was at a stalemate for him which led to the focus being entirely on me, alarmingly so. He'd been dedicated to tracing every curve and memorizing every little jump or moan in reaction to him doing something in particular that at one point I just laid there next to him and either gave an appreciative moan or a jump, sometimes I squealed which brought John in...I just didn't like it when he tickled me.

Sherlock's hand found its way to my exposed shoulder. "Rose." He squeezed it uncomfortably, scolding me. He'd been doing that of late as well after the whole pool thing. The whole dominant and no flirting with his roommate thing. There, the brothers had similarities but Mycroft used others to watch what I was up too while Sherlock just stood there most of the time.

"Right." I rolled my eyes as I crossed my legs over each other again and waited for Mycroft to say something else. I was almost restless.

"I suppose I'll leave you three to domestic bliss then." His smile was cruel but I could see anger under it and in his tense shoulders. If anything how tightly he gripped the umbrella would have been an obvious statement not all was well.

"Tedious." Sherlock groaned as the front door shut.

"You mean the lack of murders?" I raised a brow with some amusement as he collapsed into John's seat across from me.

"Its absolutely revolting." That was him mumbling a yes, I guessed.

"John, fetch me my revolver." I snorted as Sherlock attempted to order his flatmate around.

"How 'bout I look into some appointments for clients, instead." John grounded out with some annoyance. Sherlock was an experience to live with when he was bored. He was continuously reminding me of a petulant child wanting attention or in this case, a vicious serial killer.

"Rose, fetch me my revolver." He looked to me now, pouting.

"I hid it after the you gave the smiley face a nose last night at 3 am." I pointed at the dozen holes in the wall above John's head.

"It was just because I had to wait at least an hour for you to rest." He groaned and dramatically tossed his head back against the chair's arm again, his suit was surprisingly wrinkle free.

"Yeah, I lied. That was for you, you'll have silk burns on your arse if you're not careful." I rolled my eyes then paused as my phone buzzed next to me. I unlocked the screen rather quickly to read the message,

 _Naughty girl,_  
Heard you were looking for a flat.  
234 Chapel Street

_JM_

I tilted my head at the address guessing it was nearby and that he'd heard the conversation. I supposed he wanted me out of Sherlock's bedroom then? Hard to tell with James or Jim but I wasn't about to go lightly. I was still pissed that he didn't inform me of the second half of his little play. I heard the doorbell ring and looked up as John stood and started down the stairs.

Sherlock stood and buttoned a single button on his jacket as he straightened "Right then. So, what have we got?" He walked towards the door as I stood and went to grab a chair from the desk for anyone else to sit on. They would face the the fireplace like this. A middle aged man came in and collapsed in the chair that I'd just placed. Blue collar, unhappy, stressed. Brown hair, yellowed teeth, neither had been brushed this morning and his button up was wrinkled. His shoulders hunched over with shame and defeat.

"My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office." His face was meek as though he already knew the answer.

"Boring." Sherlock sighed and collapsed back into John's chair.

"Sherlock." John's exasperation could be heard from the top of the stairs as he stood there.

"But..." The man looked urgently at me now, as though I was some how supposed to help him out and get Sherlock's attention.

"She's having an affair." I stated flatly, his face fell and morphed into anger. Whoops.

"Rosalyn!" John turned to scold me now. I glanced at him with little regard to focus back on the irate man in front of me.

"No. She can't be. You don't know! Y-you didn't even listen!" I raised a brow as he stood, coming closer to me.

"Next!" Sherlock called loudly from the couch as John tried to usher the enraged man away now. I sat back in the leather chair and turned on the telly, focusing on that for maybe an hour until Sherlock began to nudged my leg with the top of his shoes.

He poked me for the third time before I swiveled around to glower at him. "What?" My tone was sharp, sharp enough to have John stop typing for a whole second.

"Who was the text from?" He dragged his gaze away from mine to the grey phone in my lap and back up to my eyes. He was curious. Interesting. Maybe this could turn into entertaining him for a pinch.

"My mother." I deadpanned and turned back to look at the telly's screen.

"Your mothers dead." He was exasperated sounding now, bringing a smile to my face.

"Then my mother's ghost." I retorted smoothly. He was quiet for a second until I felt him pluck the phone out of my lap and sighed.

"You've changed the password." He sounded put off as I heard two high pitched beeps signaling a failed attempt.

"Want a hint then?" I raised a brow as I maintained eye contact with the telly in front of me. He didn't make any noise in return outside of the occasional sigh. "Its the location that I've hidden your pistol in." I snorted as I looked back at him. He was holding the phone in front of him, looking huffy.

"We'll see about this." He stood quickly meeting my eyes as he seemed to begin searching for it. I got bored quickly as I heard him rifling through books and move towards the kitchen. I spied the same _Harry Potter_ book from before and picked it up, beginning to read it again from where I was rudely interrupted by a Chinese smuggler.

"John..." I picked my head up after a good hour of Sherlock searching and grumbling while John typed and I'd simply read to ignore them both. I wanted to make conversation for some odd reason, mostly because I thought it'd be nice for him to hear it.

"Hm?" He was distracted it seemed.

"I think you'd make a good Gryffindor." I nodded, drawing his attention.

"Why?" He looked interested, like he was both flattered but curious. He had to have read the books to look that interested then.

"You're touchingly Loyal, brave-ish, and chivalrous...ish. You've got a bad habit of comparing women to antelopes to be shot at on the Sahara." I explained slowly, he seemed to almost preen at the adjectives at the expression on his face. He thought that of himself but enjoyed hearing it nonetheless, it seemed.

"Does this Griffin and a door mean _something_ in that dribble you call a novel?" Sherlock yelled across the flat to me. Grumpy.

"Its a house. You'd be in Ravenclaw." I nodded, ignoring his insult to the book. He'd evolved an interest in crap telly but definitely not in pop culture's literature.

"What?" His head popped around the kitchen's door frame, bewilderment was clear across his features making me smile. It was cute when he didn't understand something simple.

"Its for the wit and learning bits of you. Each house has different traits, you're clever." I explained with a shrug of my shoulders.

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow as he watched me. "What about you then?" He looked to be challenging me to see if I'd put myself down to their level of being a certain house in a fictional setting. I opened my mouth to say Hufflepuff when John spoke over me.

"Slytherin." John declared like there was no other possible answer. I felt my mouth drop open with indigence as I looked back at him over my shoulder.

"What? Its true. You're cunning, associated with criminals, resourceful, manipulative...see? Perfect match." He shrugged my look off with little care.

"I'll have you know I'm nothing for tradition or self-preservation." I turned in the chair on my knees to glower at him and his computer. "With that logic in mind, _Sherlock_ should be in Slytherin!" The book was still in my hand as I waved it in Sherlock's general direction and exclaimed.

"Then what do you think you'd qualify as?" John asked incredulously.

"Hufflepuff." I nodded my head and crossed my arms over each other, I was hardworking, loyal...ish, and friendly enough. He scoffed and looked like he was about to say something in disagreement when a gun was fired off, hitting the bull on the wall right in the middle of the forehead. John flinched almost immediately, looking to cover his head while I jumped. I looked back towards the trajectory find Sherlock smirking and glared.

"I found my revolver. Really, Rose? The dirty clothes hamper?" Sherlock tsked me from the hall for my simplicity, one hand held his pistol while the other held my phone. He was typing, I heard it unlock as he began to search through it. He was so nosy sometimes.

"Took you an hour to find it, I think it was a good spot." I shrugged from my spot in his chair. It'd kept him busy for a good while, maybe next time I'd hide it outside of the flat. It'd be a citywide adventure to get him out of my hair for a good hour or two.

"You're looking to move out?" He was frowning as he looked up from the phone. I shrugged, having forgotten almost entirely about the message and it's contents until he'd said something.

"Well this was a temporary thing, remember?" I raised a brow as I sat back on my haunches, to rest the book in my lap.

"The guidelines for a couple having moved in together specifically dedicated a paragraph to your knickers being in my drawers which might I remind you, is now only half mine." He narrowed his eyes, looking towards me with repressed annoyance. We'd actually argued about his boxers being mixed in with my sets early this morning after he gave the wall a nose. It meant that sometimes I couldn't find matching pieces, which bugged the crap out of me.

"Did you get him a bloody couple's book?" I looked back to John incredulously.

"I didn't want to explain it _every_ time." John had the sense to look mildly ashamed as he shrugged.

"Thats another case, Sherlock. We're not even a couple." I sighed turning back to see that Sherlock looked frustrated.

"John, are we or aren't we?" He turned towards John waving to himself and then me with the revolver.

"Don't involve him, he can't even decide that." I scoffed, motioning to the blonde man.

"Why not? He's a neutral third party and he's been around for nearly all of our interactions, excluding intercourse." Sherlock huffed, looking at me like I was being ridiculous for denying John a say in this. It forced me to realise just how out of touch he was with relationships. Good grief, I've shagged a seven year old. How freaking creepy is that?

The bell rang again stopping me from continuing on to tell him just _why_ this was a terrible idea and that people just simply didn't have their flatmate tell them if they were dating or not. John sighed but got the door none the less while Sherlock and I glowered at each other. I didn't understand _why_. I needed to know why he'd bother or why this mattered or why it bothered him.

A rotund looking woman shuffled in, she too knew the answer before she'd sat down or asked the question. A guy that gave me the shivers was waiting by the door way, in his hands he had a funeral urn.

"I think my husband might be having an affair." She pursed her lips as she told us. I wasn't about to the be one to do it again after the last raging nutter, so I looked to Sherlock with a raised brow.

"Yes." He replied shortly. I looked back to her, expecting rage but found none.

"Figures." She sighed, standing now and shuffling back towards the door. Well then.

The other man came in and sat down, patting his urn. He didn't say anything just nodded to Sherlock and I as he patted the urn, non stop. Apparently that was it for now because John came back in and sat down on the couch with his laptop in his lap again.

"What um...seems to be the problem?" I queried awkwardly when he said nothing at all.

"So my aunt died of cancer, right?" He looked back to me like I was supposed to tell him if she had or not.

I stared at him for a few seconds. He didn't respond so I slowly nodded. "Right."

"Well we had her cremated, it was auntie Mattie's wish to be but when we went and picked 'er up...it just wasn't her." He leaned closer, still holding the urn in his hands as he spoke to me.

"Ehm." I pursed my lips, trying to stop a grin from popping up at this lunatic.

"She's not my real aunt. She's been replaced – I _know_ she has. I _know_ human ash." He looked urgently at me as I felt a short snort escape my lips before I clapped my hands over my face.

"Leave." Sherlock's words were short and crisp.

"John's the perfect third party to decide this, Rose." Sherlock started again making me sigh into my hands and bring them away from my face.

"Sherlock. We're not having this discussion today." I held up a finger as I went to stand, cracking my ankles and stretching. I pushed past him, going down the hallway to find a pair of shoes that worked with simple jeans and a sweater. Most of mine were heels: sleek, black, and tall. They worked for Mycroft's business outings but now I was in a more...casual setting? Was this causal?

"Where are you going then?" He followed me down the hallway making me sigh.

"Out." I replied shortly, closing the door and locking it in one swift motion. He was confusing me, I didn't like that. At all. If he'd come 'round in the last 6 years, that would have been fine. It would have been _fun_. Now the stakes were raised.


	20. Chapter 20

I was sitting in a children's park, just...watching. I'd gotten one or two looks but many quickly looked away after I smiled back at them. It wasn't nearly as odd for a woman to be here as it would have been for a man. I was really just waiting for a message from John or Sherlock to let me know they were done chasing fictional superheros acting as real life vigilantes.

A week or two ago, three boys had come into the apartment to discuss how their superheros had come to life. While John and Sherlock spent their time running around for these heroes, I was looking at homes. Sherlock was too distracted with the chase to realise what I was really doing while he was away. John, however, knew. He'd even asked me what I was going to do when Sherlock realised, I simply said I'd be gone by then.

"Fancy seeing you here." A wry Irish accent giggled as he sat down next to me. I should have guessed that after a good month, he would have shown up again.

"Hello, James. " I greeted him without taking my eyes off of the children playing in front of us. Surprisingly, I only felt an angry numbing coming over me.

"You're taking quite a long time to move, Rosie." He sighed, making my eyes slant sideways at him with curiosity before I continued to stare forwards. I was curious. Curious what would happen.

"Am I?" I smirked, looking forwards still. I took humour in the smaller moments with James though it seemed like I was tempting Jim out into view.

"Daddy's getting tired now." He sang wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and squeezing lightly. He wanted me out, but why? What was he planning that required me out of the house? I felt him lean closer as though he was going to kiss my cheek when his lips paused, turning towards my ear instead.

"Get out by Christmas or I'll have to get nasty." He warned me in a low whisper before pecking my cheek and standing. He stood there for a second giving me just enough time to scrap my foot down his shin.

"What do you think you're doing?" He snatched my wrist roughly, letting me know Jim was out as I smirked back into angry eyes.

"Shouldn't have changed the plan, Jim." I raised a brow, daring him to say that he hadn't deserved it. His anger melted away into an amused smile.

"Always one to hold grudges, Rose." He chuckled. I watched him bend at the waist to to my face. "Thats all fine and good as long as you know, I hold grudges too." His reptilian eyes didn't dart like usual, instead they remained steady on my own. He was searching for a reaction.

I moved closer to him, close enough that I could tell each individual hair on his brows and know that he'd eaten an orange for lunch. "You were always such a child." I leaned up and turned my head, pausing for a second before I kissed his cheek. His hand wrapped itself around my jaw, keeping my head still as he pulled back and ran a thumb over my cheek.

"If I am, then so are you." He smirked, squeezing my neck for a moment longer before he released me entirely. I laid back into the bench like I had before, keeping my words to myself.

I didn't watch him walk away and sat there for a moment or two longer. I was thinking. Hard. What could he have planned that would need me to be forced out? Was the next game a woman? I'd heard of a women in James's service before but that was after I'd run from him with William. She wasn't treated like me, instead he'd been rather aggressive from what I remembered.

"Rosalyn." Sherlock's voice startled me as my head swiveled to the side to search for him. He was standing next to me with muted happiness across his features. They were lighter but more unfocused, he wasn't happy about a case then. He was happy about something else as he took me in.

"Someone's happy." I commented as I stood. I was testing the waters, seeing what he was like today as though he was a replica of Jim and James. Perhaps he was...it would explain why I hadn't left yet. Things had to get bad before I seemed to be able to truly run from men like him and James.

"We solved the case but I actually came here to ask if you'd like to grab a bite." He shrugged as I watched him. He was honest, felt comfortable enough around me to be such a thing as honest. He wasn't at all like Jim or James then, but similar in his methodology.

"How sweet." I snorted as I looped my elbow around his with him leading the way. This was a moment of normality that I allowed myself to cherish for once in my world. A moment that I'd seen in movies and books, walking in the park with a partner to do nothing more than talk. A rare moment in the chaos that fueled my world forwards, hurtling into the next destructive force.

* * *

"Oh come now, don't mention the _unsolved_ ones!" Sherlock stood with a beaker in his hand and a blow torch in the other, that wasn't all that new here. It was his tone that forced me to look away from my book. He sounded annoyed and indignant that John would ever give away a flaw of his.

"People want to know you're human." John sighed, looking away from the laptop. I had to assume they were bickering over John's blog again, Sherlock had been increasingly annoyed about people reading John's blog while not reading his own. I'd taken a glance over to discuss his 240 tobacco ashes with him to calm his cries of frustration that I didn't read them, like a bloody child in need of attention.

"Why?" Sherlock looked just as indignant as before, changing which leg he stood on. At least he'd gotten dressed today, though I could still see the bruise I'd left on his forearm maybe two days ago.

"'Cause they're interested." John's smirk made me want to smile. The good doctor had finally figured out something he was better at Sherlock than, it was yet another rare occurrence.

"No, they're not. _Why_ are they, Rose?" Sherlock's demand for an explanation was really what made me smile at that point. He looked at me as a connection, a negotiator to bridge the gap between broken people like us and those who adapted to society. He'd been born this way while I'd been forced into it, unable to adapt any longer.

"People need reassurance that you're like them, love." I explained patiently, looking back down to my book to flip the page. It was a classic romance novel, a guilty pleasure of my own. Sherlock had hidden the last one some where in the apartment after I ignored him telling me to come to bed to finish another chapter.

"Oh its not just me then, you're in this one as well. In fact..." I looked back up as Sherlock leaned closer to read the blog post. "It goes _Even the lovely and alarmingly perceptive, Rosalyn Grey was unsure as to how this fellow found his way into the back of this car_." He recounted the line in a high pitched voice, mocking the description of me.

"You don't think I'm lovely?" I titled my head, pushing a look of sadness and betrayal onto my face. I already knew I had become a bit of a staple in John's blogs and Sherlock's life...well enough that when I arrived at a particularly gruesome crime scene with Sherlock, many simply stood and asked if he'd paid me to shag him. I was caught between flattery and unappreciative distaste for idiots. My company is costly. Far more costly than what Sherlock could afford if he were to pay me.

"You're enthralling for many more interesting and intellectual reasons than your figure, to think otherwise would be idiotic." He didn't falter in his underhanded compliment, making me smile but frown at the same time. I'd yet to figure out how else to stump the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. He was attached to me, this much I knew for sure but for what purpose? _That_ I had yet to disclose.

"Look at that." John mumbled to himself in awe, drawing both Sherlock and I's attention back to him. "One thousand, eight hundred and ninety-five." He still sounded impressed but happy. Sherlock looked back at me in confusion as I shrugged, I had no clue what he was going on about.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock's gaze centered back onto John's head with innocence.

"I re-set that counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock – not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash." John admonished with victory as he began typing again.

"Congrats, John." I rolled my eyes as Sherlock fired up the blow torch again, sliding his safety glasses back onto his nose.

"Two hundred and forty- _three_." Sherlock skulked, turning back to go into the kitchen again.

* * *

"You're sure you won't come? We're just inside the doorway and you know it's prudent to sharpen your skills, Rose." Sherlock's voice came across through the cell phone in a sigh of exasperation. I was watching the masses of press outside the door way while I lingered in the shadows across the street. "Without practice, you'll dull them." He was frustrated after I didn't respond as quickly as he'd like.

"Oh I'm incredibly sure. You've got quite the frothy crowd outside." He was forever trying to include me in his investigations under the guise of needing to keep my deductive skills sharpened. Sometimes I felt like the adult between the two of us and other times I felt like a stubborn child with Sherlock as my guide...I didn't like the latter of the times.

"She's refusing, John. I suppose you'll just have to do for now." Sherlock sounded inconvenienced that he wouldn't have me observing the body and dressing room of a theatrically inclined, Sidney Paget. I snorted and ended the call, patient enough to wait for them to emerge.

From what I understood, there had been a play in which Paget's character, a detective named Matthew Michael,was murdered with an Aluminum crutch...but in this case it happened to be very much real. It was a live performance of a murder taking place, dozens of people left the theater actively yelling in confusion and disbelief leading to the hordes of media in front of me now.

I hadn't been home when the pair had been called out to the scene, instead I was wandering the market, wondering if I really wanted my milk next to a severed head in the fridge. My thought had been that if it was in a plastic container, I'd be safe. This was also when I left the market to find an irrational man waiting for me.

_"Rosalyn Grey." I barely paused in my steps as two dirty shoes joined my own. His voice was strained, emotional. I didn't respond, hoping to simply ignore him and sped up in my heels. I hadn't quite transitioned to the casual level of John's numerous and hideous jumpers so I elected to simply keep the style I had._

_"Rosalyn. Grey." He was growling my name, wrapping a hand around one arm and yanking me to face him. It took me a second but I recognized the face of the man that had come into the apartment a few weeks ago. He'd been there under the suspicion of his wife's infidelity._

_"Can I help you?" I raised a brow, snatching my arm back out of his grasp. He seemed speechless by my casual question. I suppose when I popped his bubble, I sent his world sprawling. He looked just as defeated as before but dirtier than then. The milk, bread, and vegetables were quite heavy so I switched arms, electing to prop a hand up on my hip._

_"You know...whatever." He pursed his lips in an oddly serene smile. "You're going to get what you deserve." I turned my head, puzzled with his reaction. Normal people couldn't switch that quickly between a calamitous anger to serenity. My eyes were drawn to the silver pistol he simply leveled at with my nose. I looked back into his eyes and swung my arm up, the bag full of my groceries tumbled into his hand. Milk splattered across the pavement as I stepped to the side in an attempt to dodge a possible bullet._

_I heard a BANG and immediately figured I'd been shot as something wet splattered across my face. I blinked maybe twice before I realised the man in front of me had been shot. I took a step back, staring at his crimson wound. It was a single shot. Mid range but they were trained. I jerked my head up, looking around at the buildings for my savior of a sniper. My feet took a single step before a woman screamed, a man yelled for someone to call the police and I was suddenly swallowed up by the swarm of concern._

"You're still around then?" I glanced back at the wry voice of Sally Donovan. One of the stronger believers that I couldn't possibly be intimate with a man like Sherlock without being paid for it. Oh how wrong she was.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." I commented, looking away from her as she came to stand next to me. I might not be for very much longer at this rate but it seemed I had an odd sort of guardian angel.

"Can't listen to sound advice then, can you sweetheart?" She seemed to almost stamp her foot. I had to really force myself to _not_ smile at that. "Look, however much he's payin' ya to be his girlfriend...its not worth it." She was honest though bitter and jaded when it came to Sherlock's sharp deductions concerning her and another member of her team's sexual relations. Now whether or not she wanted me gone for my sake or her own vendetta was to be seen.

"I'm a lot of things, Miss Donovan..." I shrugged, not meeting her eyes as the paparazzi began to jumped and yell signalling Sherlock and John were done with their investigation. I looked back at her, meeting her eyes in a knowing smirk. "Being Sherlock's girlfriend is not one of them."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go." I sighed, starting to jog towards the two men who were desperately trying to evade photographs being taken of them.

"So what happened?" I reached Sherlock's side as he sighed.

"It wasn't all that interesting. Paget switched out the prop for a real one hoping to get his killer fired, turns out he just killed himself." Sherlock looked put out with the outcome, another case solved in under a week. We sat inside the taxi in silence as Sherlock began to stare out the window, dismally.

"We need to establish a system, a system for how serious the crime is so I don't have to be rushed out in the middle of the night for some idiot's ruse." Sherlock grounded it out with distaste as we nodded to his request.

"Then we can establish as system, 1-10 good for you?" John was placating him patiently.

"Yes, I think that'd do me well." Sherlock nodded, sitting back into the taxi idly.

"You're not carrying any bags." His eyes were drawn to my hair making me nervous that I hadn't gotten all of the late irate man's blood off of me.

"I'm glad to see your deductions are ever obvious." I snorted dryly, looking across the cabin at John. John chuckled lightly before shaking his head and looking back out the window. He would have never noticed such a thing.

"Wheres the shopping?" Sherlock's lips and eyes narrowed in annoyance as I shrugged at his question. "Rosalyn." His tone was one of warning. A warning I would ignore.

"Sherlock." I raised a brow as John seemed to sigh and mumble to himself about us starting again in the corner.


End file.
